


Ol' Miss Susie

by geenajay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, WARNING - SPOILERS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 87,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geenajay/pseuds/geenajay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam realises that Dean has a secret. Sam, being Sam, wants to know what it is. After all, how bad could it be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that has been going round my head since I first started watching this series. I have set it in Season seven for two main reasons: one – it fits. Mostly. If there are details wrong, or things slightly out of order, then I apologise. I have a life outside as well! So please be aware that there are a lot of spoilers in the story – DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED UP TO AND INCLUDING SEASON SEVEN YET.  
> The other reason is a more personal one – I can address the one thing that had me really, Really shouting at the TV, Sam and the scriptwriters! We had how many weeks of ‘poor Sam’ and his ‘poor friend’ (this is so hard, not being able to write spoilers!), then he does something so horrible to his brother with what consequences? Nothing! Zilch! Nada!  
> If ever, Ever, there is a character that needs to be brought back to cause deserved mayhem between the brothers, then this one is it! Or am I the only one who thinks that? I’d be interested to know.  
> PLEASE NOTE: I write PORN, people. No likey, no readie!  
> AND I MOST DEFINITELY DO NOT CONDONE RAPE: IT IS NOT A SEXUAL ACT, IT IS A CRIME OF INTIMATE PHYSICAL VIOLENCE AGAINST ANOTHER PERSON AND SHOULD NEVER BE ACCEPTABLE IN ANY CIRCUMSTANCE. But it is part of this story. Do not read if you are offended by the thought. But I hope that if you do decide to read on, then you can see it is a necessary part and enjoy the story despite it.  
> I have got the chapters pretty well mapped out in my head: I will be putting them on as quickly as I can (I know how irritating it is to wait months for an update of a good story.)  
> Disclaimer: I am not part of Supernatural, I am only a fan. I do not own any rights to it (Though I do wish I owned Jensen Ackles – mmm.)  
> Genuine comments will be appreciated.

Chapter One

Sam was getting really pissed at Dean.

He really didn’t know what was worst. That he had gotten married, actually _married_ , to his insane, mentally deranged ‘greatest fan’ Becky who had thought it perfectly acceptable to have drugged and taken control of Sam’s mind to do so. Or that he had been so _stupid_ as to let himself get drugged and married to her. Or that Dean thought it was really hilarious and wasn’t, just _wasn’t_ , letting it go. Either way, if his brother didn’t shut up soon, he was going to get it.

“So what was your wedding night like then, Sam? Did you carry her to the bed? Did she carry _you_ to the bed? “

He smirked. “Were you a blushing bride? Did the earth move for you both?”

“Enough Dean. I mean it”

“Or did she have to take you in hand as it were?”

“I’ll take you in fucking hand if you don’t shut up!”

“Oh, Sammy. I hope you weren’t that desperate on your wedding night!”

He laughed hysterically as Sam threw the TV remote at him, shielding his head easily with his arm. “Now Sammy. I know this is just your sexual tension talking. Did you have first night jitters? That’s so sweet.”

That was it. He’d had enough.

Sam launched himself at Dean with a growl. Dean laughed and easily moved from where he was sitting at the table in time. “Sammy! You should be saving those moves for your Missus!”

His laugh was cut short as Sam used his full six foot four reach to his advantage. He literally threw himself over the table rather than going round it as Dean had been expecting. Even as his brother ran to try to avoid his long arms, his fingers had gotten hold of enough of Dean’s shirt to tug it and his brother back towards him. Dean staggered, hit the table and fell. Sam’s body continued on its forward slide, the table creaking dangerously under his weight, and let himself drop on top of his brother with extreme prejudice.

There are many different ways to fight and many techniques, one of which being universally acknowledged as the ‘Sibling’ style. Siblings can fight like nobody else: with no-holds-barred, nothing outside the rules, no part of the anatomy considered, or taken as, inappropriate or out-of-bounds.

They also know all of each other’s deeply hidden weaknesses.

So when Dean gasped for breath at the sudden weight dropping on to his chest and stomach, Sam simply pressed home his advantage.

“You want ‘taking in hand’, Dean? I’ll show you fucking ‘taking in hand’.”

Kneeling on his chest with both bony knees pinning Dean to the ground, he turned around to reach for his brother’s legs.

Dean realised what he was going to do. “Sam. Sam! Nooooo!”

“I warned you, Dean.”

Even as his brother tried desperately to get him off and get a proper breath, not necessarily in that order, Sam used his own chest to hold Dean’s legs down while his long muscled legs wrapped tightly around Dean’s torso and his left arm that had become trapped in the progress. As Dean tried to push him away with his right hand, Sam simply reached back to grab it in his much larger one and physically pushed and pulled it into and through the gap created between his ass and Dean’s own body. All it took then was for him to tighten his thighs and lean his weight back to sit on top of his brother and Dean was all but trapped.

Sam paused for a minute to catch his own breath, aware of Dean’s hand trapped and wedged against his groin, aware of his brother’s body caught between his strong thighs. It was time for Dean to pay.

He reached for Dean’s right leg. Dean was kicking out by now, trying to throw him off. “Oh, come on, Sam! I hope you played nicer than this with Becky!” Then he swore as Sam had hold of his right leg without even having to lean forward, damn him and his orang-utan arm reach, and was forcing it to bend up and towards him, bringing his boot and sock into removable range.

“You going to shut up yet?” Sam had the items off, leaving his brother’s foot vulnerable.

“Aww, Sam. I really must be hitting a nerve if you’re resorting to this. It must be _Luurve_!” His words ended with a shriek as Sam’s long fingers ran up the dreaded spot in the arch of his extremely ticklish foot.

“You going to stop?”

“Aw, Sam. I was only playing around.”

“You going to stop?”

“Sam! I!” Dean was fast getting breathless between the crush of his thighs. “I was only trying to support you! If you want to get married then that’s okay.....”

“Dean! Quit it!”

Sam swore under his breath. Even despite the situation he was in, Dean would never give up. He hated to lose. And to be honest, now that Sam had his brother down on the floor, he could think of something far more interesting to be doing than tickling him.

But then, he hated to lose as well.

So he attacked Dean’s foot with a vengeance as Dean squirmed beneath him and called him every impolite name under the sun. And then, to drive home his point, he caught hold of his other leg and foot, and didn’t stop until he had destroyed his brother into a wriggling, angry, tearful mess beneath him.

Then, finally, he felt vindicated enough to loosen his legs and turn himself around bodily until he was lying face to face on top of Dean. Even as his brother gasped for his first, much-needed proper breath in a few minutes, Sam’s tongue was down his throat in a passionate kiss that had them both breathless when it finally ended.

They lay in silence and stared at each other for a few minutes while they recovered.

“Can we move this to the bed?” Dean asked quietly.

Sam smirked at him. “Definitely.”

He got up and helped Dean off the floor, already reaching to get the rest of his clothes off him.

“Were you this desperate with Becky?”

“For...! Dean! Enough, already!”

“Just asking.” There was still too much humour in his eyes at the situation.

Sam glared at him. Then he pushed Dean physically over to one of the single beds and shoved him down on to it. Even as he knelt to pull his brother’s jeans and boxers away he snapped. “If you mention Becky once more, I’m not doing this.” And with that warning he leant forward and took Dean’s ready cock into his mouth.

Dean let himself fall back to lie on the bed. “Who’s Becky?”

Sam felt himself smile this time as he heard his brother’s tone. He knew without looking that Dean’s eyes would be glazing over with lust and his lips would be parting with little gasps of pleasure. He let himself relax and take his time, just sucking and licking, and pushing down onto as much of Dean’s cock with his mouth as he could take. He wished he could take it all, wished he could take it right down his throat and hold it without gagging immediately. He wanted to give Dean that pleasure that his brother could give to him every time. But even as he heard Dean gasp and his cock begin to pulse in his mouth, he had to pull off and spit it out before he choked, letting Dean’s cum spray all over his own prone belly.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Dean smiled at him and reached out his hands to undo Sam’s outer shirt. “Your turn.”

Sam quickly removed his under t-shirt and used it to wipe the worst of the sticky mess off Dean’s torso. He moved to his bag to find the lubricant even as he was undoing his own jeans, walking out of them one leg at a time on his return. “Can I fuck you?”

“Did you have to ask with.....?”

“Don’t say it, Dean. Don’t say it.”

He felt a moment’s irritation as Dean smirked, but concentrated on lubricating his fingers. These last couple of months or so he had discovered many good ways of shutting his brother up when he got this annoying. Quickly he climbed back onto the bed and claimed Dean’s mouth once more with his tongue while his fingers sought out a different hole to occupy.

Then he stopped, because something was different than how he had been expecting. He hadn’t been with his brother for over a week so he was expecting that amazing first tightness that was Dean. But this was more like.... the morning after session.

“Dean? Have you been with someone else?”

“Mmm?” Dean was preoccupied with sucking Sam’s tongue out of his head. “Oh. Oh yeah. There was this guy ....”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Sam pulled away from him tight-lipped and sat up. Dean stared up at him in surprise.

“We’re not exclusive, Sam. That’s the rules _you_ insisted on.”

“I know. I know I did.”

“Then why the bitch-face?”

“I. Nothing. It’s okay.” He leant forward to kiss Dean again, trying to get himself back to the mood of the moment before. Dean blocked the kiss with his hand and sat up.

“It’s _your_ rules, Sam. You insisted. And besides. I thought you were married to Becky!”

“Forget about her! I don’t want to hear her name again! Not ever! I mean it, Dean.” His sudden outburst of temper caught even him by surprise. And his anger made him rough. He caught his brother’s face in his hands and violently attacked his mouth with his own in a way that would give both their lips bruises. Dean took it without complaint as Sam gradually got control of himself again.

“Sorry. I just....hate the thought of you with someone else.” He whispered the words into Dean’s mouth.

“ _Your_ rules, Sam. When we started this, it was you who insisted.”

“I know it was. I make stupid rules. And I’m still going to fuck you.”

“You’d better.” Sam smiled at the filthy smirk on Dean’s face and pushed him onto his back again, this time moving to kneel between his legs and applying the lubricant to his own cock. Without another word, he pulled Dean’s hips up, caught at his legs to wrap them around his own body and began to push in. Dean sighed with pleasure as he did.

Sam had got himself in just over half his length before he suddenly felt the sudden incredible tightness that he was used to. He slowed his thrust immediately, feeling relieved, and proud, and selfishly grateful that he was big where it mattered. Dean had admiringly told him numerous times how big his cock was, and now he felt a lot better at the thought that these few inches of Dean’s perfect body were out of everyone else’s reach. They were only for him.

With this in mind, he leant forward to kiss Dean far more gently than he had just done that moment before. Then he began to wonder how the other man had kissed his brother. The thought made him forget his carefulness, and he thrust the last of the way in abruptly, making Dean wince and gasp in sudden surprise.

He caught his breath and stared up at Sam.

“Sorry.”

“Okay.” But his eyes took a moment to stop watering.

Sam forced himself to calm down and wait until Dean was ready again. Then and only then did he start to gently pleasure his brother, finding that spot inside him to rub against while he himself savoured all the sensations around every inch of his long cock. It took no time at all for them both to begin moaning.

“Did he do anything that you wish I would do?”

“Sam!”

“I’m just asking. I know I’m not experienced. But if there’s anything that you’d like. That you’d love me to do but you’re embarrassed about asking. I’d do it. You know I would.”

“For god’s sake, Sam. This isn’t the time!”

“You went with someone else. I want to know if they were better than me!”

“It’s _your_ rules, Sam! And I thought you were married!”

“But you knew that something was wrong, because if I’d want to be anywhere it would have been with _you_! You _know_ that, Dean, I’d be in _your_ bed! No one else’s!”

“But you were _married_ , Sam! And it was _you_ who insisted that we let each other go with other people. You _insisted_ that!”

They had come to a mutual halt. Anger was in both their eyes and bodies. Then Dean suddenly pulled his body out from under from his younger brother and began to scrabble up the bed. Sam was bewildered, slightly hurt at the rebuff and also in some considerable pain because he was still so very, very hard.

“Come here.” It was an order as Dean knelt up on his knees at the wooden headboard and braced himself against it. Sam hastily obeyed and moved to kneel close behind him. Dean reached back with his hand to grab his cock, and pulled him forward and pushed back with his own ass until Sam was fully embedded in him again. He gasped at the pleasure of the new position.

“If you’re going to be angry at me for following _your_ rules, then you can fucking well work it off!”

He began to push back with a rhythm, forcing himself back onto his brother even more by using his strong shoulder and arm muscles against the headboard as well as his thighs. Sam groaned with the sensation and wrapped his long arms around Dean, one around his chest, the other going lower to catch his brother’s waist and hips so he could use them to pull against as he once more began to thrust in. He felt so intimate, so at one with Dean. Even more than when Dean was on all fours for him. That was good, but this was.... god, he wanted him so much.

He unwrapped his right arm from Dean’s chest and instead caught at his short hair and pulled, forcing his brother to arch his back and lean his head back against and nearly over Sam’s shoulder. Sam touched his lips to his mouth.

“I’m gonna remove every trace of _him_ and replace it with me.”

Dean could do nothing but nod his agreement as Sam claimed his mouth again roughly, licking into every micrometer of his brother’s mouth. His hips were on autopilot, settling into a steady but deadly rhythm. He was going to destroy his brother: he wasn’t going to want to wander ever again.

It still wasn’t enough. Sam forced Dean’s head back further. He knew he must be hurting his neck and back but he didn’t care. He felt animal. He felt almost feral. He wanted to mark Dean somehow, to claim him as his own so no one else would dare look, let alone touch. Twisting his own body with a superhuman effort he managed to get his mouth to Dean’s throat, to that soft area just above where the collar bones meet. There would do. He was tempted for a moment to bite, _Hard_ , but instead caught the skin between his lips and began to suck, feeling it rise into his mouth with the suction long enough for it to bruise to his satisfaction. Hard enough for Dean to whimper his submission.

Sam released him far more carefully than he had pulled Dean back. Despite the fact he was still pounding into his brother with all his strength with his lower body, he was in now in complete control of himself and there was no way he would have risked giving his brother whiplash by letting him suddenly fall forward. Instead he almost gently massaged him as Dean once more leant to brace against the headboard and just let him do what he wanted to him.

And Sam did want. He wrapped his hand around Dean’s erect cock and pulled him even tighter against his own mechanised hips with the other. He pushed his knees further forward between Dean’s, forcing him to spread even wider. Oh god it felt so good. His brother felt so good around him.

Sam’s lust hit untenable levels. He all but climbed up and into Dean, pushing with his feet and all his leg muscles with every thrust. Dean lost his grip on the headboard and was forced to push against the wall behind it as he tried to counter Sam’s strength and desire. His younger brother was over him, in him, trying to break right through him. They were both out of control. Neither cared. Neither could breathe. Neither could take any more. Neither wanted to stop.

The explosion of Sam inside him triggered Dean’s own and he soaked the headboard and himself, and the wall beyond. They both stayed in their positions for a long few moments, completely sated, unable to move at all. The only things that Dean was aware of were the two different rhythms inside his own body: the racing of his own heart contrasting to the slower yet steady pulsing throb of where Sam was buried deep inside him.

He let his head rest against the wood. On top of him, Sam was similarly breathless and spent. Dean didn’t expect either of them to move for a while, although he was wishing he could perhaps be allowed to breathe a little more comfortably, crushed as he was between his brother and the headboard. But there was no hurry.

He was surprised therefore, and slightly chilled as the cool air hit his damp skin, when Sam suddenly and decisively pulled out, leant back and took hold physically of Dean to turn and manoeuvre his body until he was sitting at the very top of the bed, leaning back against the now disgusting headboard. Sam used his bony knees once more to force him to spread his legs apart and then he knelt in between them and drew himself up to lean over Dean, who felt the intended intimidation as his chin and jaw was caught in Sam’s large hands and he was forced to look up at him.

“I _know_ it’s my rules. Other people fine, always use condoms. I know I have. I know you do. But I’m beginning to accept that I’m a possessive bastard, so you had better had too. I don’t like you being with someone else. So sue me.” This was all said with a snarl that froze Dean’s blood while simultaneously making him very hot indeed.

“I’m gonna get nasty. I’m gonna wipe every trace of them off you. If I could mark you as mine without maiming you, then I would. And I’m gonna do my best to keep you so sexually exhausted that your cock winces if someone else so much as looks at it, do you understand?”

He didn’t wait for a response, he just plunged his tongue down Dean’s throat as hard as he had just fucked him. To his amazement, he could already feel his cock getting interested again at just the thought of Dean’s gorgeous body beneath his.

He was breathless when he pulled away. So was Dean, he just looked up at him but didn’t say a word. Sam smiled at him gently and pulled him down properly into the bed, holding his brother tight in his arms and covering them both with the blankets. Dean snuggled in against him without complaint.

“This better than your marital bed, Sammy?”

Sam felt intense irritation at the humour _still_ in Dean’s raspy voice. But instead of giving a snipey response, he kissed the top of his brother’s head and made a decision. He was going to let Dean rest for an hour. No actually, make it about half an hour, then he was going to do everything that he had just done to Dean all over again. Everything except the tickling. He was going to damn well make Dean so sore that he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else apart from how he couldn’t sit down comfortably for at least a week!


	2. The Day It All Changed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RAPE! - DON'T READ IF YOU WILL BE OFFENDED.

They had only recently come to this stage in their personal relationship. The catalyst that had caused them to change from brothers who were partners in their job, to brothers who were partners in bed had only occurred a short few months before. And it had been a rough, rocky journey from then, but they were still together. So far.

Sam could remember that day so clearly, was still so ashamed of himself. It had changed everything but still, he had to accept that he wasn’t the person he’d hoped he was. Not the person he should be.

He had woken up early in yet another motel room to find Dean’s bed empty. Not an unusual surprise there. He had gotten up and gone for his run, enjoying the fresh morning air and try to enjoy the luxury of his own thoughts without Lucifer. That of course hadn’t worked: the hallucination or whatever the bastard thing was had been there from the moment he had opened his eyes. Pressing the recent wound on his hand helped, just as Dean had told him it would. But the pain couldn’t chase the Devil away for long.

He had just turned the corner leading back to the rooms of the motel when one of the other apartment doors opened and there was Dean exiting it. Still nothing unusual. Sam didn’t really take a lot of notice, not until a hand appeared on his brother’s arm, causing Dean to turn back, standing slightly aside and allowing Sam to see the occupant of the room.

He froze in disbelief. Was that...? It couldn’t be. He recognised his brother’s latest conquest from the bar last night. Everyone had noticed: all eyes had turned in appreciation at the entrance, such was the impact of the new arrival. Dean had turned as well, Sam remembered, just to see what had caused the pause in the beat of human noise rumbling through the bar-room. He had glanced, just once, at the newcomer that was getting so much attention and admiring glances then returned his attention and lusty smirk to the two ladies that he was being bought drinks by.

It was only a few minutes later that he brought his glass over to Sam, who as usual was sitting on his own at a table in the corner. “You okay getting yourself back to the motel?”

Sam had nodded, he had half expected the words, had heard them enough times. Dean had handed Sam the keys to the Impala, finished his drink and left, followed a couple of minutes later by the two giggling ladies.

Sam had sighed, finished up his own drink, then returned to their shared motel room alone.

But now he stared as, in the open doorway of the motel room, his brother was pulled back into the embrace of the stranger from last night; back into the arms of the very good-looking, sun-bleached, bronzed, muscular man that had caught all the attention of the crowded bar-room the previous night. He was definitely bare-chested, bare-legged, shoeless: Sam couldn’t see if he was completely naked but thought it probable as the man wound his hands around Dean’s neck, physically drew his mouth to his, Dean’s hands going to his ripped chest and waist in response as he was pulled, without too much argument, back into the room.

They disappeared around the edge of the door and it was shut behind them, with a slam that Sam knew instinctively was caused by one of their backs, and he suspected it was Dean’s back being shoved against it by a useful method of closing it while their hands and mouths were otherwise passionately occupied.

Sam let out a breath that he hadn’t even realised he’s been holding in. Shit! All those years. All those years and he hadn’t realised that his brother swung both ways. Never even suspected it. Not once. Dean had kept that so quiet, so secret from him.

“Well, well, well.” Lucifer was here. But for once Sam didn’t care. He became aware something was hurting, deep inside him. It felt that something had been ripped out. He felt so, so... he didn’t know what. His run was abandoned, he should just return to their room and wait, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move from that spot where he stood. All he could do was stand there and wait, wait for that door to open again. “Oh come on, Sam, talk to me!” The Devil was insistent: he stood and pouted like a spoilt child when Sam didn’t even acknowledge him. But Sam didn’t care.

Nearly a whole hour had gone by before it finally did. This time Dean made it fully out of the door, Sam could hear him laughing and throwing his usual empty promises to ‘be in touch’ at the occupant. Then Dean was closing the door behind him and turning around while fumbling in his jacket pocket for the key to their own room. He looked up and finally saw Sam standing there watching him. Some emotion flicked across his face, Sam wasn’t sure what it was: regret that his secret was finally out perhaps? Anticipation of an awkward conversation to come?

Dean glanced down at the ground ruefully, looked back up at Sam, sighed and shrugged. Then he turned to walk down to their room, the key now ready in his hand.

Sam followed him slowly, he felt like he was in a stupor. That everything he had thought his whole life had suddenly, chaotically, proved to be a lie, just this one hidden secret had brought everything down. His brother had left the door ajar for him. He slowly made his way into the room and shut the door behind him.

Lucifer was already there, rubbing his hands with glee. “You didn’t know, did you? This is going to be an interesting conversation!” Sam just walked right past, he didn’t even try to squeeze the wound on his hand to get rid of him, he just wasn’t interested. Lucifer frowned in annoyance but brightened up at the thought of the impeding argument. He turned to watch.

Dean was already in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. He glanced over as Sam appeared in the doorway. Neither spoke a single word. Dean got the flannel and washed his hands and face, wiped around the back of his neck. Where another man’s hands had just been. Sam studied him as if just seeing his brother for the very first time: his eyes were tired but sparkling; his cheeks were flushed; his lips were slightly swollen; there were new marks on his neck, bruises that weren’t caused by fists for once.

Eventually Dean tired of the scrutiny. “So go on”, he said as he bent to rinse the cloth under the running tap. “Say what you’re gonna. Tell me what a slut I am!”

His voice was even deeper than usual, even raspier than a usual night spent drinking. Sam knew he had heard this voice before, not often, but definitely a few times before. It stirred Sam in ways he’d thought he’d buried for years, ways that suddenly, definitely weren’t going to remain buried anymore. Dean, his big brother, liked men!

“Whatcha going to say, Sam?” Lucifer was desperate to goad him now, to get a reaction.”That’s your stepping stone there. And you didn’t know.” His smile broadened as Sam took a step forwards.

Dean straightened up, looked in the mirror. Started as he realised that Sam was now standing directly behind him, he hadn’t heard his brother move at all. He began to turn to face him.

Sam was on him before Dean even had time to think about reacting. Even Lucifer was shocked into silence. Sam’s large hands caught Dean’s head either side of his face and pulled him up to his own, in an exact repetition of the tender image he’d witnessed earlier that morning between his brother and another man. His lips pressed onto Dean’s desperately, his hands holding him tightly, then as he felt Dean’s surprise, felt him try to pull back and felt his lips part to try and speak, Sam thrust his tongue between them and into Dean’s mouth, with the renew urgency of buried years of want.

He was aware of Dean trying to recoil, felt him try to get his hands up to Sam’s chest to push him away. Sam blocked him the only way he could, by wrapping his long arms around Dean’s upper body and holding him physically tightly to his own, effectively crushing his brother’s hands between their two bodies and allowing him no space for leverage.

His tongue continued to delve into Dean’s mouth, thrusting and exploring every part that his own long tongue could reach. He had always wondered how his brother would taste: of leather and gun-oil? Or something else? And now, despite his brother trying desperately to break his hold on him, he could taste him beneath the mint of the toothpaste. Dean tasted so good, Sam had always known he would. He needed to tell him how good he tasted. He pulled his tongue out of his brother’s mouth enough for him to be able to speak while still tasting his face and lips.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you? Do you? How many nights I’ve jerked off to fantasies about you? What fantasies I’ve had about you and me? I knew you’d taste good, I knew you’d feel good. Oh god, you taste good.

And I’ve never dared. Never. Even to say anything. Because you’re not interested in men, never given any indication that you’re anything but straight. And I know I’m your brother, but if I’d thought, just once, perhaps I could get you really drunk...perhaps there might be a chance. But no. Because Dean’s straight! One hundred per cent!

And there you are. With him! Do you know what that’s doing to me? Do you?” he had managed to get one hand up to Dean’s face and was tilting it up, forcing Dean to look up at him, all the time not breaking his tight hold on his body.

Dean hissed at him in panic. “Sam! Stop this! You’re my brother!”

Then Sam was kissing him again, forcing his tongue back into his mouth, desiring that taste, Dean’s taste: unique, earthy, incredibly sexy, better than he’d ever imagined. And he had imagined. So many times over so many nights over so many years.

Lucifer couldn’t contain himself. “Oh Sam. This I never imagined! You are such a freak!” Sam wasn’t even aware of him anymore. All that mattered to him was telling Dean all the things that he had always wanted to.

Even as Dean struggled to get free of his arms, Sam suddenly managed to get his large hands down to his brother’s ass. He caressed the perfect pertness for a moment, then reached down to grab Dean’s jeaned-covered thighs, taking tight hold of each and pulling them both up suddenly. Dean had finally got his arms free, but had no choice but to throw them around Sam’s neck to stop himself as he began to fall backwards, his head hurtling dangerously towards the tiled wall behind him. Then Sam had lifted him up bodily, catching Dean’s legs and wrapping them around his taller body as he turned, and with a couple of long strides, deposited Dean on the nearest bed in the main room, falling physically on top of him, using his body weight to pin Dean down to the mattress.

“Shit, Sam. Stop this!” But Sam used the chance to get his tongue back into Dean’s mouth, probing and tasting his brother’s mouth again, licking at the back of his throat, using his weight and on top position to his advantage.

Dean was desperate now, trying to wriggle and squirm free, but strangely without headbutting, biting or doing anything too violent against Sam. Perhaps he thought his little brother was being possessed somehow, or, which had been the case in too many instances, under a spell of some sort. Sam moaned as he privately agreed with this supposition, he felt he had been under Dean’s spell for most of his life. But as Dean managed to get his hands to Sam’s chest and finally got enough leverage to begin to push him off, Sam knew he had to act.

Pushing his full weight deliberately down into Dean’s chest, he grabbed for his brother’s hands as they scrabbled to get him off and try to get a breath. He knew he was crushing Dean and it would be painful for him, but it would only be until he had managed to seize his wrists and hold them tight in his own larger hands, pushing Dean back down into the mattress. Then he finally found a use for his larger, wider body: by simply clenching his shoulders together he caught Dean’s chest between them, holding Dean in position against himself as Sam lifted up momentarily to twist and force his brother’s arms and hands behind and beneath his own body so that when Sam pushed down once more with his entire body weight, Dean’s hands were trapped beneath himself, beneath the combined weight of them both.

Sam knew he must be hurting Dean, must have come close to ripping Dean’s shoulders out of their sockets but he was past caring. All he wanted was to taste him, to feel him, to fuck him. That’s all he had ever wanted, and now he was so close. He fought for Dean’s mouth again with his own, felt a moment of fear as Dean’s teeth angrily closed around his probing tongue, almost mentally heard his brother thinking about biting through it, but instead he contained his anger, probably still concerned that Sammy wasn’t in control of his own body.

Instead he tried to break free from Sam’s body on top of his by twisting and struggling beneath him. The fire in Sam’s groin got worse, he was already so hard, had been ever since he realised his brother was in bed with another man, and now Dean’s unintentional and desperate thrusting as he tried to break Sam’s hold on him, just took his younger brother completely over the edge of reason. Any last remnants of self-control dissipated from Sam’s mind, years of undisclosed lust simply overpowered any last sense that he was acting disgustingly in regards to his own brother.

Still using his weight to pin him to the bed, Sam began to loosen Dean’s clothing from his waist down, fumbling to undo his belt, almost ripping the buttons in the tight jeans in his desire to get at the flesh beneath, pushing his hand down the waist band of Dean’s boxers, sighing with moans of pleasure at the feel and the warmth.

“Sam! Sam! Stop this!”

“You’re going to! You’re really going to! Oh Sam. You so belong back in Hell with me!” But Lucifer wasn’t quite so gleeful: there was a line being crossed here too far for even his taste.

By this time Sam was hooking Dean’s right leg with his left arm and forcing it up away from the bed, while pressing down deliberately and painfully with his weight on Dean’s chest. He could feel his brother gasp, feel him struggle once again to breathe, but it meant that he had to stop fighting Sam momentarily, giving the younger man the chance to pull down the offending garments and pull them right off the leg still hooked up over Sam’s arm, leaving Dean naked and exposed beneath him.

Dean quietened suddenly, but Sam could still feel his heart beating wildly beneath him even through all their combined clothes.”Sam? Sam.” Dean was forcing himself to be calm, rational. “Sam. Listen to me. Listen. I don’t know what’s going on, or what’s taken you, but you have to get back in control of your body. You have to get in control of yourself, Sam”

“I am in control!” Sam almost snapped at him, his eyes already on his brother’s limp cock, willing it to come to life for him. Perhaps if he used his mouth? “I have wanted you and wanted you. Dreamt about you for night after night. And you go off with that prick? If you want cock, then I’m here, Dean. I’ve always been here, desperate for you to notice that I will do anything you want!”

“Sam...” and then Dean hissed and arched as Sam pushed his left index finger up inside him. Both brothers froze for a minute: Dean in sheer disbelief at what was happening, and Sam, just because of the sensation of tightness and warmth and being so close to everything he had always wanted. He pushed it in as far as he could go, feeling how Dean’s muscles contracted and stretched around it as he once again tried to get out from beneath Sam’s dead weight on him, feeling the slickness still there from Dean’s activities the previous night. Lucifer just fell completely silent: he retreated to a corner and just watched. Or perhaps he wasn’t even there at all. Sam didn’t care. He didn’t matter any more. This right now was all the reality he wanted, all he had ever wanted.

Desire was now as hot in Sam as his cock was. He had to do this, no matter what, had to feel what Dean felt like around him, deal with the consequences after. His mind went into overdrive, trying to remember all the information he’d ever read, visualised all the gay porn he’d ever seen – what should he be doing? How could he make this good for Dean as well? He wanted him to enjoy it, to declare his love, declare his lust for Sam, ask for it again, demand it from him as well.

Lube! He needed lubricant. Where would some be? His gaze dropped to Dean’s upper body, he was still fully clothed above the waist, right down to his heavy leather jacket. Sam began to search his brother’s pockets – Dean surely must carry some in case of nights like last night. He smiled to himself as he felt the small tube nestled in Dean’s inside pocket. Again he used his weight to crush his brother into the mattress while he got both of his hands free enough to pull his sweatpants and own boxers down, tip the contents of the bottle into one hand and spread it thickly over his own very ready cock.

“Sam. Please. Don’t do this!” he could hear Dean struggling for breath, hear the crack in his voice as he begged now, begged Sam to stop. Instead Sam grabbed for his ass, oh god, how could it just fit so perfectly in his hands, forced Dean to raise his hips up, lined himself up to the hole that he had just explored, a perfect, tight hole just like he had always known it would be, and slowly, slowly pushed his cock into his brother’s body.

He moaned loudly, all but collapsed onto his brother, buried his head into Dean’s neck. Oh god, it felt so....Warmth, and tightness, and slickness, and everything moving around him, and oh he was never going to leave. He pushed all the way in, not even listening to Dean’s swearing and vitriol against him, all he was aware of was the sensations around his cock, all that mattered was there, around his long inches of flesh now buried all the way into his brother’s perfect, perfect body.

“Dean! He gasped, he felt as breathless as he was forcing his brother to be. “Let me do this to you every night. I’ll make it so good for you, I’ll make it the best you’ve had, I promise. Oh god, you feel so good.”

Then he was up on his biceps, still holding Dean down but thrusting, forcing in as far as he could go every time, savouring every sensation, letting himself moan, fighting to get inside his brother’s mouth again, desperate to praise him, to let him know how wonderful he was and how fantastic he felt and tasted, and Dean was angrily fighting to get him off and away from him, and then Sam was arching his back, thrusting with everything he had because he was coming too quickly, coming with a rush and a roar of warmth and pleasure that he had never, ever felt before in his whole life, exploding inside his brother, feeling his cock throb uncontrollably, only matched by the frantic rapid beat of his heart as he spurted his hot, sticky cum deep into Dean’s insides.

All he could do then was collapse completely on top of Dean. His limbs felt shaky, he was trembling with emotion, all he could hear was his own heart pounding. And his cock was still pulsating inside that amazing tight warmth that he had always wondered about but was even better that he could ever have dreamt of.

“Oh God.” It was all he could moan, and even doing that was too much effort for his completely sated body. He laid his head down besides Dean’s on the mattress, nuzzling into the soft short hair, rubbing his lips against the warm skin beneath, worked his way round to Dean’s ear and just caught it gently with his teeth and breathed against it. That was all the effort he could now muster.

Slowly reality began to sink in. As his breathing stilled and his heart rate slowed, he slowly came to realise what had just happened, what he had just done. He was afraid to move but he knew he had to. Carefully he raised himself up and turned to face his head just enough to see his brother’s face.

Dean was staring at the ceiling, Sam couldn’t read his expression. It was a mixture of definite tight anger and possible hatred, but there was also... Sam could see tears in his brother’s eyes, and an underlying sadness, and numbness, and when Sam raised his head more so he could look directly down at them, he could see a little fear in Dean’s eyes. Fear of him.

All of Sam’s previous passion faded as abruptly as it had begun. In all of his fantasies about his brother, and there had been many of them, there had always been willing compliance. Okay, sometimes he had dreamt of tying Dean up and pleasuring him, or ordering him to do certain things or face punishment, but the fantasies had always ended the same, with Dean happy to be in Sam’s arms, shivering with enjoyment, confessing that he had always felt the same, and being eager for more. But now, here, in the cold light of reality, that hadn’t happened. And now Dean was afraid of him because he had. He had. Just. He had just raped his brother.

Sam felt his stomach heave. He had just raped his brother. Oh God, what had he just done? He had just raped.... The urges came suddenly and he pulled out and ran for the bathroom, grabbing at his sweatpants as he barely made the toilet rim in time. Even as he vomited, the one thought just ran and ran through his head. He had just raped Dean, he had just raped Dean.

He finally found the strength to stand at the sink and brush the remnants of the vile taste from his mouth. As he tried to replace it with the taste of the minty toothpaste he found himself listening intently: he didn’t think he had heard the motel door open or close, so was Dean still there? Or had he gone? Sam wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to go and check, but eventually he had no choice but to go back into the main room and face whatever there might or not be.

It took him a few moments to see his brother. And then only because Lucifer, or whatever it was, had sat himself silently at the small table and motioned his hand. “He’s there. You really went for it then, Sam. I didn’t know that was in you. To rape your brother. You’re sick, do you know that?”

Sam ignored him and looked in the indicated direction. Dean had dressed himself and moved to sit on the floor in the corner of the room, his head bent over his knees in an upright foetal position. He looked, well, he looked like a little broken toy, Sam thought, and his own heart broke within him at what he had just done.

“Dean?”

His brother didn’t move but he raised his face up enough to Sam to be able to see it. His expression was now completely blank, almost like every emotion had been ripped out of him.

“Dean?” Sam took a step closer and caught the flash in Dean’s eyes and the sudden tensing of his body. Oh God, Sam thought, and stayed in the place where he was, instead slowly sinking down himself to lean against the wall by the door. “Dean? I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I.... You can do all the tests but I’m not possessed. That was me. I’m so ashamed but that was me! And I’m so sorry, really. I’m so sorry. That was me.”

“Yes it was. All you. Just you. You bad, sick bunny!” Lucifer couldn’t keep quiet. But he did when Dean finally spoke.

“I know it was, Sammy.” He could barely hear Dean’s voice, it sounded so wretched and raw. “That’s the trouble. I’ve known since..... I hoped it was just. _Him_. But it’s you, isn’t it? It’s you.” He buried his head in his hands again.

Sam could see him shaking, physically shaking, but he was also confused. “What? What do you mean, Dean? What was him?” Even Lucifer was looking confused, he could see him out of the corner of his eye.

Dean tilted his head enough to stare at Sam with a frown. “You don’t remember? When you were soulless? I thought that was the trouble, that you remembered everything?” Sam could see him beginning to get angry. “Are you telling me you don’t remember?”

“I. He. Soulless me, he did so many horrible things that I. Well, I try to block them out.”

“Well, try remembering them Sammy!” Dean all but hissed the words at him. “And then don’t start telling me that you’re sorry!”

Sam stared at him in confusion for a moment, then put his head back against the wall and tried to think back. Back to memories that weren’t his but were his, to thoughts and actions committed by his brain and body, but without his soul to guide and control them. And they weren’t good thoughts and actions: it had come as a huge shock to him just what a sick bastard he really could be beneath his own high opinion of himself, and he had felt more disgusted by that than by all the tortures and torments that Lucifer had inflicted on his trapped soul. In the rare few moments he was honest with himself, he knew he was as bad as the Devil if not worse.

But now he closed his eyes and tried to remember somebody else’s, (for it wasn’t him), thoughts, actions and memories. It felt like flicking through old photographs, old flickering movies that didn’t belong to him, but then again they did.

Immediately he saw the faces of the poor unfortunates killed because he, or that twisted version of him, hadn’t been bothered to save them, or in too many occasions used them as dispensable bait, or as distractions to occupy the attention of the monster hunting them while he got into the best position for killing it. If the humans bled to death in the meantime then what of it, at least there wouldn’t be any more victims. And he could remember the faces of those he had killed himself, because it was easier to shoot through a soft barrier of human flesh and blood rather than risk the creature getting away. Sam knew he was a murderer, had to face it even though he didn’t want to. But he had to remember because of the way Dean had just told him to. There was something there that he had to recall....

His thoughts turned to the women. God, he cracked at his brother all the time for his womanising, regularly called him a slut, but when he, Sam, had had no soul he had been far worse. He had really used women. Without any regards for their feelings or pleasure. He had been far worse than Dean ever could have been, and in the mornings.....Sam opened his eyes and blinked, then closed them again and tried to concentrate. In the mornings, every single morning, the soulless version of him had woken with the exact same thought and the exact same desire that he himself usually had in the mornings: that powerful desire of wanting his brother in the bed beside him, of doing all those things just done to the women, and more, to him, and hearing him cry out Sam’s name in pleasure.

Sam began to sweat as he realised that that other terrible, immoral version of him had lusted after Dean in exactly the same way as he had done his whole life. And now that version’s fantasies began to play in his head: far darker fantasies than his own. Returning to Dean and Lisa’s home, killing her if necessary and kidnapping his brother, tying him down to beds, keeping him chained to walls, making him a sexual possession, consent or otherwise not even considered. And Sam could feel, could realise just how close some of these urges had come to being acted upon, how close some nights the other Sam had got to just taking what he wanted, to hell with the consequences.

Then suddenly the brothers had been thrown back together. Dean had been in danger and Sam, soulless Sam, had been there to pull off a heroic dash to the rescue. He could have left Dean unconscious in the garage, let him sleep off the antidote and awake, confused but alive. Could have watched and saved Lisa and her son, and still keep it a secret. But he didn’t. And Sam now could feel Dean’s excitement and confusion in realising that he was alive, had been in fact for a whole year but never told him. He could feel the other Sam smiling to himself as he pulled his brother back into the world of hunting monsters, into coming with him for a life on the road.

And then he could see through eyes that weren’t his but were his, on that first night back together sleeping in the single beds in some forgettable motel. He could feel himself, the other version of himself, watching Dean sleep. Watching his mouth. He could feel himself stripping off his own clothes, lifting the thin blankets, climbing into the bed on top of his brother while putting his own mouth to those pink, soft, so kissable lips.

He could see Dean abruptly awaking, first in surprise, then alarm. “Sammy, what are you ....?”

“Sshh” he could hear himself saying as he pressed down on Dean, holding him to the bed, fumbling to pull down his sweatpants. “I’ve missed you so much. Let me show you how much”. Then he was pushing his tongue into Dean’s mouth, knocking his thighs apart with his own legs, containing his brother’s struggles to get off the bed.

Sam jerked upright in horror. His eyes flew open. He stared over at Dean and felt sick to his stomach as the memories began to surge through his head like a speeded up movie reel. He could feel how nervous Dean was now of being around him, the other version of him. His brother knew, must have realised then that something was wrong, terribly wrong, but had no idea of what, of how to fix it, or who or how to ask for help. He must have been afraid to try to sleep when Sam was around, or even just of turning his back on that version of Sam who wouldn’t have considered a refusal to be a problem.

He could feel his own, or rather the Sam without a soul’s, delight in being inside his brother. There were still the occasional women, but it was Dean he mostly lusted after. And he could feel Dean’s complete despair, because if he tried to fight too much then he might hurt or permanently damage his, the real Sam’s, body. And that might mean that he could never be able to put whatever it was right. Sam’s heart broke as he knew, he _knew_ , without having to see all the images muddling and colliding through his brain that Dean would have taken anything, put up with _anything_ rather than risk Sam, the _real_ Sam, never getting home.

The vampire nest. Sam felt like screaming as he watched himself watch his own brother being turned: the information that could be gained being even more valuable to that sick, twisted version of himself than his sick, twisted unrequited lust for Dean. Even Samuel had been stunned by Sam’s ruthless callous disregard toward his own brother. But Samuel hadn’t been there that evening to see Dean, all but broken by the loss of his beautiful lover and would be son, hardly raise a finger to help himself as he was pulled physically into his younger brother’s bed. Everything that he had had was now gone, all destroyed by that horrific version of Sam, and still Dean was trapped by it.

No wonder he had tried so desperately to find Sam’s soul. He had even made a deal with Death. And no wonder the soulless version of Sam had fought so strongly not to receive it. And when he was finally trapped and forced to, then Dean must have finally thought that his nightmare was over.

And today, Sam had proved that it wasn’t.

Even the hallucination, or whatever it was of Lucifer, even it looked stunned. It, he, whatever, flickered and was gone as if glad to leave.

He didn’t know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, which was to just hug and hold his brother until somehow that made it all better. But he knew he was never going to make this better. Never. No matter what he did.

“Dean?”

There was no reply. No response, not a flicker, not a shrug.

“Dean?” He began to try and approach his brother but stopped when he saw the flinch. “I don’t know what to do. Can I come over there? Please?”

Finally Dean responded enough to turn his head, and Sam’s breath caught on seeing his expression. Dean just looked so.... lost and unsure of himself, and Sam had never in his whole life associated that with his brother. Ever.

“Dean?” He tried to hold eye contact with his brother as he slowly crawled across the floor to him. Dean looked down at the floor. Sam reached his side, knelt up and gently, slowly, carefully put his arms around his brother and pulled him close enough to cradle his body against his own. He could feel his own tears flow as he spoke. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise what he’d, I’d done. I hated him, all his memories so much I tried to block them, I didn’t want to face what I could be, well, am. And I never, never thought I’d ever hurt you. Especially not like this, Oh God, not like this. And I have. Again! Oh God, Dean, I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t speak any more, knew he could never say enough to apologise properly. Instead he just fell silent, just held Dean as tight as he could and laid his cheek against the back of Dean’s still lowered head.

“I can’t do this Sam.” The rawness, the pain in Dean’s voice broke Sam’s heart. “I can’t be...what you want of me.”

Sam nodded against him. “I know. I know. I should never have ....well that wasn’t even asking, what I just did. And there’s no excuse. I can’t believe myself that I did that. Or that I already have, so many times. And certainly not to you. Never to you.” He raised himself away from Dean a little. “I’ll go. If that’s what you want. I’ll go.”

“No!” the words exploded from his brother and Sam could feel Dean try to choke back tears. He couldn’t believe what was happening, what he had caused, how badly it had all just gone screwy. He loved Dean so much, but in a way that he knew he shouldn’t. And he also knew that Dean loved him probably even more but in a far purer way, because he had been prepared to put up with such a terrible, horrific situation rather than risk losing Sam, and now Sam was putting him through it again.

“I won’t hurt you again, Dean. I never will. I promise you that. Never. I can’t believe I did ...that.” He felt his tears start. “I raped you, Dean! I raped you! How could I do that? What sort of monster am I? To rape you! Oh God, Dean, I’m so sorry!” He had brought himself to such an intense state of emotion that he felt his stomach begin to heave once more. He had no choice but to run for the bathroom again, falling to his knees out of more than the necessity of the moment. He couldn’t believe what he had just done. He’d never forgive himself. Ever if Dean could, but how could he, but even if he managed to move past it somehow, Sam would never, ever forgive himself.

Over the noise of his own hurling, he heard his brother’s footsteps approaching the bathroom. There was a creak as Dean perched himself carefully, and probably tenderly, on the edge of the bath. Sam cried harder, he was so touched that his brother, even after what had just happened, was there. The urges finally finished. Sam got up slowly, wiped his hands and face, brushed his teeth yet again, and turned to face Dean.

They just stared at each other. Neither knew what to do or say.

It was Sam who broke the silence. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” He watched his brother struggle to control his emotions. .”No. But. You’re my brother Sam! I can’t. I can’t ....be that for you. I just can’t.”

“I know, Dean. I know. I’d never have asked you. I know how terrible that just was. How disgusting! I.... There’s something wrong with me! To love you like I do. Like I want to. I know how wrong that is. I know! That’s part of why I had to leave!”

He felt further shame as the look on his brother’s face. “Because of me?”

“No! No. Mostly because of dad. That I couldn’t bear how he ran our lives, how he treated us, how he treated you. You were never good enough for him. I watched you try so hard and it was never good enough, and I couldn’t bear it. And I couldn’t bear how I felt about you, cos I know how wrong it is, and that I could never tell you. I must never tell you. So I ran. I ran to College to get away from dad, and to, well, to try and put some distance between you and me. Like a coward. I ran like a coward, Dean.”

“You’re not a coward, Sam.” But it was an automatic response, almost a response given to a child’s mouthy ‘I love you’ or to be a ‘brave little soldier’. Sam sighed and tried to ignore the slight. Because he knew he was a coward. A coward who had abandoned Dean for four years, not even tried to contact him, caused him nothing but grief and pain, and now, as a thankyou for still putting up with him despite all the shit that Sam had caused, done this. Raped him. And not just once but many times. And still Dean loved him enough to be there.

He looked over at his brother, who had his head down and was just looking at the floor. On an impulse Sam moved across to him, kneeling at his feet and put his large hands up to Dean’s face with considerably more gentleness than he had earlier. Dean let him tip his head so Sam could see into his eyes. They were swimming in tears which only emphasised their beauty: the vivid greens in them reminded Sam of summer meadows and leafy forests lit up with rays of morning sun. They were just mesmerizing.

Sam smiled up at him with so much love, “It will be okay, Dean.” He leant up and, closing his eyes, pressed his lips to his brother’s mouth. “It will be okay.”

He hadn’t even realised what he’d done. Not until he felt Dean tense, and felt a silence in the air as loud as any physical noise.

He didn’t dare look but he had to. He had to face Dean. He opened his eyes again, their faces still so close together. He was shocked and distressed to see the tears now overflowing from those amazing eyes and running unchecked down his brother’s cheeks. He finally understood what Dean had immediately known, that once the line had been crossed there could be no going back: he could never pretend to look at Dean and not remember his taste or his feel or his smell or the incredible tightness inside him. What he had earlier caused to happen was irreversible.

He knelt back on his heels in silence, his hands still holding Dean’s face. Gently he brushed his thumbs into the path of the tears until they flowed over them instead and dripped away from his wrists. There was nothing he could say, nothing to take the hurt away, nothing that could possibly make it better. All he could do was wait in silence for Dean to recover himself enough to stop crying. He realised that he had never before seen his brother cry openly: he had heard him at night, or noticed the tears in his eyes before he had time to turn away. It was a strange and unsettling first, to hold Dean’s face in his hands as he cried with so much sorrow, yet he felt a strange satisfaction that Dean was letting him.

Finally he recovered himself enough to be able to speak. He looked away from Sam, he didn’t want to look him in the eye any more. His voice was so low that Sam could barely catch the words.

“This is what it’s going to be, isn’t it?”

Sam stared at him trying to understand.

“The choice. Either I lose you completely, you’ll leave and go. For good this time. Or....this. You’ll only stay if....this.” He sounded so drained, so broken and Sam couldn’t bear it.

“I won’t! I won’t go, Dean. I’m staying. I shouldn’t have left you before, I hated myself for doing so. And I won’t make you.....I know I’m not being fair. I don’t know why I just did that...”

“But you did!” Dean burst out. “You will again.”

“No...”

“Yes! Because you did last time! You’re going to do it again. And I can’t, Sammy. I can’t. You’re my little brother! I can’t do this!”

“It’s okay, Dean, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I won’t ever ask you to...”

“You are though, Sammy. You already are. And I can’t.” His voice faltered and he jerked his head out of Sam’s grip and turned away from him. “You’re my brother, Sam, and I love you so much. Too much. And I’d do anything to stop you leaving. God knows, I _have_ done to get you back. But....I can’t go _there_ again Sam. And this....”

Sam interrupted him, leaning up into his face. “Go _where_ , Dean?”

His brother sighed and looked down at the ground again. “Go back to Hell, Sam. I can’t go back there. It broke me the last time.”

Sam almost bent himself double trying to get his face below Dean’s eye-level so he could see his face, putting his hands up on his brother’s knees to assist himself. “You’re not going back to Hell, Dean. Not you! Me definitely – I’ve done some terrible things, this being the worst! But not you!”

“I’m your big brother, Sam. I’ve corrupted you somehow. I must have if you want...this!”

“Oh Dean.” Sam all but squished his entire body into the space on the floor between Dean’s legs, squeezing in to reach up to his chest, to pull up against his brother until he was close to him with his hands clinging to the backs of each of Dean’s shoulders. “This is all me! There’s something wrong with me! Always has been! And I can’t blame Azazel or Lucifer or not having a soul, this is me and I’m... there’s something wrong with me! And I don’t care. I mean, I’m so sorry about what he, I, that other version of me did. And I’m so sorry about earlier, I can’t believe myself that I did that. But I don’t care that I love you. And I do, I always have, so much. But that’s me, not you. Nothing that you’ve done, not a thing.”

Dean tried to interrupt, but Sam wasn’t finished as his long buried emotions finally let loose. “I love you, Dean. Seriously, I would give anything to have the chance to make you happy, happy with me. And I know that you don’t feel the same and never have. But that’s me corrupting you, not the other way. You’ve never corrupted me, Dean. You’ve given everything, far too much to look after me. You’ve given far too much to look after everyone, the whole entire world! So don’t you dare worry about going back to Hell because you never are.”

“Besides,” he added as Dean frowned and began to open his mouth to argue, “you’ve got the purest soul of anyone. Cas told you that – that he’s never seen a purer soul. Yours shines the brightest of all of us. You’re a good person, Dean and you try so hard to protect us all and that is all that matters. You’re not going to Hell again, Dean.

But you are allowed to be happy without feeling guilty for being it. And I’m not saying that you’ve got to be with me to be happy, but I am saying that I’d try, I’d try really hard to make you happy, if you’d give me a chance to....”

The thought suddenly went through his head, so obvious that he knew he should have thought of it before.

“What about Cas? Had you and he? I know he loved you. Were you with him and I didn’t know?”

Dean straightened up and pulled away from him angrily. “What? Don’t be stupid, Sam! He’s an Angel! He....was an Angel.” His face and anger fell at exactly the same moment, Sam felt the pain in his own heart as he saw how much his brother hurt. “Angel’s don’t do that! And I would be straight back to Hell if I touched him! Probably with all of the other winged bastards after me to boot!”

“No!” Sam loved Dean so much that he couldn’t stop himself from telling him the truth. “He loves you. Anyone can see that. That’s why we ribbed you so much, because I never thought that you might be interested back! But....he really loved you,” he corrected himself as he remembered what had happened to their friend. “And, I think, you really loved him as well.” This was with sudden clarity. “When you waded into that reservoir just for his coat.....” He looked up at Dean and meant every single one of his next words. “If he ever comes back, promise me you’ll ask him, Dean. I’d step back, I swear. I want you to be happy. I wouldn’t get in the way, not between you and Cas. He’d.... he’d be so good for you.”

“Don’t be so fucking stupid, Sam!” Dean was getting really mad at his words. “He’s a fucking Angel!”

“In a human body!”

“Who had a wife and child!”

“He loves you, Dean! If you want him, I won’t get in the way, I promise you I won’t!"

“For God’s sake, Sam!”

Dean literally threw him off and stormed out of the bathroom. This time he did head for the motel room door, but Sam scrambled to his feet and headed him off with his much longer stride. “I’m sorry, Dean I’m sorry! I’m just trying to ....I’m just trying to say, I want you to be happy. You’re allowed to be happy. You deserve it. You really deserve it, Dean, you’ve given so much. And I’d love to be the one to make you happy, I’d love it if you just give me the chance to try. But I swear to you Dean, I wouldn’t get in your way if you find someone. I’d step back. And if, _when_ , Cas comes back and he will, cos he’ll find a way, for you. He’ll find a way back to you and I’ll step back. Cos you deserve to be happy, you really do, please believe me, please believe that!”

He had finally talked himself out, standing in front of Dean and blocking his exit from the room. And he meant it, he really meant it. He knew Dean didn’t believe him as his brother had such a low opinion of himself that he never would. And that made Sam so angry because he meant every word: his brother had done so much and given so much, and he still would never feel that he deserved anything good.

“Look.” He ran his fingers through his own long hair. “Let me get us some breakfast. Well, lunch. You stay here. Promise me you’ll stay here. Please. I’ll get us something to eat and we can talk. Try and work this out. I’m not leaving you Dean, not unless that’s what you want.” He put his hand to his brother’s chest as Dean started and began to open his mouth to argue. “I’m never leaving you. And I’ll never, ever hurt you again. I swear that to you. I’ll try and control myself. I know I’ve failed miserably so far. But. Just be here when I come back, okay?”

It seemed like an eternity before Dean nodded. Sam stepped away from the door, grabbed the keys to the Impala off the table and left quickly, giving a silent prayer that Dean would actually still be there when he returned. He hurried to the nearest take-out, grabbed a bucket of fried chicken and fries, and a six pack from the neighbouring store and returned to the motel as quickly as he could. He needed to take a deep breath before turning the key in the lock of their door. Would Dean still be inside, or would he have taken the chance to run? He almost felt dizzy with relief when he saw him, sitting quietly at the table, looking through his laptop.

Dean had obviously grabbed a shower, his hair was still damp, and although Sam recognised the scent as being the same soap gel that he himself had used the night before, he felt every inch of his long body prickle in appreciation because on Dean it smelt so good, so unfairly good. Oh god, he thought, how was he going to keep himself under control around Dean from now on? How had he managed to for so long before?

As calmly as he could he crossed over to Dean, handing him first the drinks. As he had guessed, his brother opened them straight away and drained one bottle in one go, immediately reaching for another. They sat and ate in silence. Dean deep within his own thoughts, and Sam waiting, just waiting for Dean to do whatever he wanted: whether it be to talk it out or walk away.

“So.” Dean finally broke the silence. “I. He. You, the other you, he told me that this had gone on a long time, been going on a long time. I. I don’t understand.”

“It has been as long as I can remember.” Dean stared at him. “I’m serious. I don’t know when it changed. You’re more to me than just my big brother, you’ve raised me more than dad ever did. Taken care of me, taken me to school, helped me with homework, tried to make it all normal. Well, as normal as we’ve ever managed.

And I don’t know when it changed. When it went from wanting you to hold me tight at night as a comfort, to wanting you to hold me tight against you for another reason. But it did. And once you discovered girls it just got worse. I just got....so....jealous, wanted so much to be with you like they were. I used to watch you. Want you. I ....just did. I always have. Wanted you to see me like you did them.”

Dean blinked a few times. And thought for a few long minutes. Sam just waited, happy that at least Dean was still here with him, he couldn’t have blamed him if he’d run as far from Sam as he could get. And he was happy to wait. He knew how his brother worked: Dean wasn’t stupid, in fact he was far more intelligent than everyone, and Sam had to count himself in this, gave him credit for. Not the academic sort, but he had far more worldly intellect than most people ever would. And his thoughts went far deeper than anyone but Sam realised. Not the glib, fast-reactioned thoughts of Dean in Hunting mode, but his deep personal private thoughts. But years of being down trodden by their father, and Sam, had made him reluctant to voice them out loud until sure of them. So Sam just sat and waited: waited for Dean to sort them out in his head, no matter how long it took.

“So. Have there been men then? I mean, you say you were surprised at me, but I’ve never heard you mention, well, I suppose I’ve never asked you. It isn’t something that either of us have ever discussed. But, well that other Sam, he would go off with other women even when....but I never saw him with another man. So. Have there?”

“No. Well. Once at college my friend and I got stoned and we, well, we fumbled is the best way I can describe it. But I knew then, it made it obvious to me. I’m not gay, Dean. I don’t want men in general. Never have, never will. I...just love you. Only you. We were both glad when we stopped.” He smiled a little in memory. “I don’t remember much else after that. I’m glad we stopped doing _that_ though.”

“You might have got pregnant by him, you slut.” Sam gaped open-mouthed at Dean for a moment. But Dean had finally got the courage up to ask what he really needed to know. “And what about Jess? Did you ever tell her? I mean....”

“No. I loved her, Dean, I really did. We would have been happy. I would have made her happy. Sex was good. And we shared so much in common: interests, tastes, idealisms. We would have worked.” He fell silent as memories that weren’t fully his flashed through his head. “But, “he conceded, “I can see...his...thoughts. How he would wake up with desires of you being there instead of whichever woman. That was me as well. I would sometimes imagine it was you when we.... No. I never told her.” He had a sudden surge of irrational anger and unfairly directed it at his brother. “But I would have made her happy, Dean. I would have!”

“I know you would have Sammy. She seemed nice. I know I only met her that once, but I was glad for you. She seemed nice.”

Sam caught his breath in shock. “Four years. Four years, and you only met her once. And then only because you came and asked for help. I should have invited you. You should have been friends, been a brother to her. Why didn’t I ...?” he felt himself start to cry. “You’re the only thing in my life that has ever mattered. You’re my rock. How could I block you out for four years because of my own guilt? Because I couldn’t bear to be too close to you!

I got you sent to Hell for me! All that suffering, all those years! When you came back, I used to lie awake and listen to your nightmares and, what did I do? Instead of trying to help you, I turned all my energy into getting revenge on Lileth for taking you from me!”

“It don’t matter, Sam.”

“It _does_ matter! You told me yourself, over and over, ‘I’m back. Let it go.’ But no, I _had_ to get revenge. Had to go with _Her_. You warned me what she was. You could see it. But I wanted revenge because Lileth had taken you away from me. And it was my fault, all my fault! And I nearly killed us both. Nearly destroyed everything. And you were still there for me!”

The tears were flowing freely down his cheeks now, he knew he was getting hysterical and felt himself beginning to rant. “You’ve always been there for me! In every way, except from the one that I selfishly wanted. And for _him_ to hurt you like that. Put you through that. And then this morning, fuck, I saw you with that man and I was so jealous. I wanted you to be kissing me the way you were him! Just like you do with all the girls. I so want that. I’ve always wanted that.

But not to force you, Dean. How could I do that? I raped you. How could I do that? I raped you.” He had to break off, his chest was heaving with sobs.

He couldn’t believe his brother’s next words. “Forget about that, Sam.”

Sam was incredulous. “Forget it! How can I? What sort of monster am I to rape my own brother? You should be running as far as you can get from me. Or at least beating the shit out of me! How can you say forget it? Look what I did!”

Dean threw back his chair and grabbed at him, almost falling on his knees by Sam’s legs as he grabbed his younger brother’s shoulders with a firm grasp and shook them to try and snap Sam out of it. Sam gasped a little from surprise and a little from fear, and some from desire at Dean being so close. “Now you listen to me! You’re saying that was rape? Well, yeah, I wasn’t consenting. But to me that wasn’t rape! And you can use your fancy college law education and your lawyer mind and words to twist it how you like, but to me that wasn’t rape. Believe me, I _know_ what fucking rape feels like! And that wasn’t it! You thought of trying to use lube, you were trying to think of me, and your reaction after? Forget about it. Forget what that other you did. It happened. It’s over. It’s gone.”

Every word of the last bit was emphasised with a hard shake of Sam’s shoulders.

“All I’m worried about now is how we move on. If we do.” He trailed off, his green eyes staring into Sam’s with so much worry, so much concern that Sam just wanted to throw himself into his brother’s arms, kiss him hard and never let go. But he tried to contain the feeling, afraid of doing or saying anything that would be the final straw for his brother. So instead, he just forced himself to nod and tried to sniff back his tears to manage a smile.

Dean must have been satisfied because he released his bruising finger holds on Sam and returned to his chair opposite.

“So.” Sam had to finally ask although he didn’t want to in case he didn’t like the answer. “How do we move on? I’ll do whatever you want, Dean.”

Dean nodded absently. He had returned to his deep thoughts, his forehead was creased, there were lines forming around his eyes and mouth because he was brooding on something so much. Sam swallowed nervously but all he could do was wait.

Except eventually he couldn’t anymore and he slipped to his knees on the floor besides his older brother, placing his hands carefully on Dean’s left knee, ensuring that the touch couldn’t be too high up on Dean’s leg as to make him nervous about it signalling intention of anything. He just wanted, actually Sam needed, to be in physical proximity of his brother, especially as it still might possibly be for the last time ever.

Dean watched him. Sam felt the slight flinch and hated himself even more for what he had done. Then Dean also moved and put his hand over Sam’s larger ones and held them tight. Sam felt tears prickle in his eyes again because that small act meant so much to him. It was an act of forgiveness, forgiveness that his brother always gave. Forgiveness that he never, never deserved.

“Dean?” he pressed carefully. “So where do we go from here?”

Dean sighed. “I don’t know Sammy. I’ve never, ever thought of you like that. But I don’t want to lose you. Don’t want to be without you. So. I don’t know if I can.”

Sam’s hopes rose. What was Dean trying to say?

“How do you mean, if you can?”

“I don’t know. I can try, Sammy. If that’s what it takes for you to stay. I’ll try. But I don’t know how much I can. I mean.....”

But Sam was getting up off his knees and perching himself on Dean’s legs while putting his arms around him. He pressed his forehead against his brother’s.

“Whatever you’re happy with. Whatever. I’ll take whatever you can give. Anything or nothing. I’m not leaving you. Just let me hold you at night sometimes, I’ll settle for that. And I’m not asking you to be exclusive. I know how unfair on you this is. You can go off with your women, or men, but don’t flaunt them okay? And I’m never, never going to hurt you again, I promise you, Dean. You don’t need to be afraid of me. Not ever, I swear."

His brother grunted. “This never goes outside though Sam. Never. To the world, we’re brothers.”

“I promise, Dean. Complete professional behaviour outside the motel room doors. With the exception of the car when we’re somewhere out of public view.”

He took Dean by surprise. “You’re not actually thinking about corrupting my Baby?”

Sam laughed at him: he felt deliriously happy and dared, actually dared, to kiss his brother’s lips quickly before getting off and grabbing his laptop to give Dean some space and to do some work.

“You kidding? You naked? Spread out on those leather seats? With me on top? My favourite fantasy!”


	3. That First Night

How Sam got through the rest of that day, he didn’t know. His brain just kept telling him to stay calm, keep your distance from Dean, give him space. Just act ‘normal’. The irony of that wasn’t lost on Sam. He had so wanted to be normal all his life, right up until this morning, and now, he so wanted to be anything but. And his body wasn’t helping: every time he looked at Dean it felt like it had done when he was twelve or thirteen years old: his cock kept letting him down by getting hopeful every time he saw those lips or, even worse, those green eyes glancing his way.

But he forced himself to act as he normally would, to think as he normally would. He sat in the small chair in the motel and worked on his laptop: it being a useful prop to keep over his lap given what his body was doing to him. Dean worked at the table. They spoke little other than to ‘check out this site’ or look at ‘www.....’

By the early evening they had found a possible job and had agreed to get an early start the next morning as it would be another long drive. Then they were both hungry so they went out to a diner, sitting as normal opposite each other but this time there was no accidental leg contact, difficult to do as four long legs sharing the space below a small table invariably and usually meant at some point there was contact. In fact, it would be ‘normal’ to have contact, but not that day. Sam didn’t know how he managed to keep his legs out of the way the whole time but he made sure he did. Nothing to freak Dean out, nothing to put any pressure on him at all.

It was still relatively early when they returned. Sam had expected Dean to want to go to a bar, but Dean hadn’t suggested it. He had possibly been awake most of the previous night, although he rarely slept for long anyway, and given the events of that morning as well meant he was probably exhausted both mentally and physically.

Sam felt the tension within him rise as the Impala pulled back into the car lot. What would happen once they got inside? Would anything? Dare he ask? No, he’d better not, just leave it. Don’t push Dean any more, you’re not being fair Sam. They entered the room in silence and he suddenly realised that his brother was as nervous as he was about what Sam might be expecting. He took pity and stopped Dean as he was about to step into the bathroom. “Your pace. I meant that. And if you can’t, then....that’s okay, Dean. Let’s just get some sleep tonight, okay?”

Dean looked slightly relieved. “Okay. Night, Sammy.” He disappeared through the doorway. Sam sighed and stripped off his outer layers, settling himself into one of the twin beds. Dean returned and switched off the lights. Sam could hear him also stripping in the dark and expected to hear the opposite bed creak at any moment. Instead he was surprised, and immediately aroused, as the mattress he was lying on suddenly dipped and his brother was slipping under the covers beside him, flopping another pillow borrowed from the other bed down beside his head.

“We’re only sleeping, right?”

Sam hastily turned on his side and snuggled into his brother’s chest as Dean lay down on his back. It was natural for Dean to put his arm around him, just like he had done every night all those years before when Sam was a child. Sam hesitated then stretched his arm over Dean, fought down his frustration at feeling his t-shirt, then risked moving his hand down to slip beneath the hem and trace back up the muscles to rest it over his brother’s heart.

He was aware of Dean tensing momentarily then slowly relaxing. They lay in silence for a long time. Sam couldn’t sleep, he wanted so desperately to explore every single hair and every scar on his brother’s chest with his hand then discover them all over again with his mouth and tongue. He forced himself to stay still.

Then. “You’re not asleep, are you?”

Sam started as Dean spoke in the darkness. “How did you know?”

“You’re too still. Most wriggly kid I’ve ever met. Well, not that I’ve ever slept with any others, but you damn well never stayed still. I used to wake up covered in bruises from your kicks.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m just saying.”

There was a long silence. “Do you want me to sleep in the other bed?”

He heard Dean sigh and waited for him to answer. Eventually: “I don’t know what I want, Sammy. This. All of this. I don’t know what I want.”

Sam lifted his body a little and wriggled up the bed so he could lay his head on the pillow besides his brother’s. “Turn towards me?” he asked.

Dean thought for a moment then obeyed, turning onto his side to face Sam. They could see each other’s features in the near darkness well enough. Sam gently reached out with his hand to touch the bruises on his brother’s face that he had unintentionally caused that morning by holding him so roughly. “Do they hurt?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.”

“May I kiss you?”

Dean stared at him then took a deep breath and nodded. Sam’s heart pounded as he carefully leant himself forwards to touch Dean’s mouth with his own. Why was this so awkward, he thought to himself, he’d kissed many different girls before, he’d been complemented on his technique, why did this feel like ‘make or break’? And should he go for tongue, or was that too soon?

He dithered a little, just pressing his lips to Dean’s and no more, and pulled back.

“Was that it?”

He stared in annoyance at his brother. “I don’t want to hurt you again.” He defended his lack of skill with more than a little irritation.

“You wouldn’t squash a fly doing that!”

“Then _you_ kiss _me_ then! Show me how it’s done!”

Dean glared at him in the dark. Then lifted himself up on his elbow a little to be slightly over Sam. “Close your eyes, will you. This is weird enough.”

Sam blinked and hastily obeyed. Was this really happening? He felt like a silly schoolgirl would probably feel on their first time behind the bike shed: he didn’t know whether to pucker his lips or would that just be too awkward, or do nothing, or what?

Then he felt Dean’s hands on his face: roughened hands but so warm, so gentle. They cupped his cheeks and chin caressing them. He felt he almost stopped breathing when he felt the brush of his brother’s lips on his own, they were so soft and so tender, far more than he would ever have expected. Then to his amazement, the warm moist tip of Dean’s tongue ran along both his lips with a sensuous tickle. Instinctively he opened his mouth to allow it access and then Dean’s tongue was in his mouth, seeking out his own tongue, probing it, massaging it, tickling it, wrestling it. All so soft, moist, warm, gentle. Exactly the opposite of he had himself had been only that morning.

He was so hypnotised by all these sensations that he couldn’t move, not even to try and bring his own hands back up to touch Dean’s face. It was enough, so totally enough, to just be in his brother’s expert hands. He had always known they were expert hands, that had been a major part of the problem, and now they were finally on him. And God, it felt so good.

He didn’t want Dean to end the kiss, he wanted it to go on and on. To his surprise he felt breathless and light-headed when his brother finally pulled away and lay his head back down on the pillow beside him. “That okay?”

“Oh God yes!”

He wriggled as close to Dean on the bed as he could possibly get without climbing on to him, aware of their bodies now touching together a lot of the way down. “Can we do that again?”

He caught Dean’s expression in the dark: it was a mixture of anxiety, smugness and a strange shyness that he rarely saw in his brother. But he nodded and reached across for Sam again, staying on his side this time, pulling Sam’s face to his own, still with that same tender gentleness and complete control. They lay for a long time just kissing, getting used to each other’s taste, exploring all the different sensations of their mouths and tongues.

Then Sam felt Dean’s hand finally release his face and begin to wander. First to just his neck, then lower to explore the hardness of his chest through his t-shirt, gently running his fingers over Sam’s nipples as they strained to break through the thin material. It went lower, touching and teasing every contour of his abs. Sam’s breath was beginning to falter now as Dean’s hand got ever closer to his sweatpants and achingly hard cock. It stopped at the gap where the two fabrics of his shirt and pants met and slipped through, finally finding warm, bare skin. First with just fingers, then Dean’s whole, calloused-rough but gentle hand was lying on his stomach.

Sam felt he could come right there with that touch, but he fought the urge down. Just concentrate on the kiss, Sam. Just let Dean do whatever he was relaxing enough to do. His heart began to thump alarmingly as Dean’s fingers skimmed the rim of his sweatpants and edged inside just enough to start to feel the thicker hairs beneath. Then it began to pull back momentarily. No, Sam wanted to shout, don’t stop, keep going, take me in your hand, do whatever you want to me.

He flinched a little as Dean broke the kiss abruptly and sat up a little. Why was he...? Then he realised why: he must have just spoken that out loud! Shit Sam, why did you just do that? He couldn’t believe how he had just done that. And he suddenly wondered if perhaps Dean in his tired state had momentarily forgotten who he was in bed with, until Sam had reminded him by speaking. Fuck, Sam, why could you never learn to keep your mouth shut?

“Dean, I...”

He obeyed his brother’s hand motion for quiet. Even in the near-darkness it was obvious. Dean sat up for a few moments, obviously deep in thought about something. “Cover your eyes.”

Sam blinked and obeyed as Dean turned the small bed-side light on, then slid out of his side of the bed to sit beside Sam with his feet on the floor. Sam remained silent and nervous.

He wasn’t expecting Dean to pull the covers right off him and to start to strip him of his clothes completely, raising Sam’s arms up to pull the t-shirt off over his head, tugging at his pants and boxers until Sam was lying completely naked, exposed and fully erect on the sheets. Sam felt a natural impulse to cover himself with his hands as Dean just stood beside the bed and looked at him, but resisted and lay still instead.

Finally Dean broke the silence.”Jeez, Sammy. Talk about everything being in proportion!”

There was definite and sincere admiration in his voice. Sam felt his cock almost throb with the thrill of the tone and sudden pride in his own body, especially when he now focused on his brother’s groin and realised that he had just as big an erection tenting beneath his own sweatpants.

But Dean was hesitating again. “Sammy, I. You’ve never been with a man. I need to know.... If this is just a daydream, a fantasy that’s built up over the years, but one you’d run a mile from in reality then I need to know. Cos if I do this. If I. Well, if I take your virginity and you hate me for it. Well, I couldn’t live with your hate, Sam. I just couldn’t.”

Sam’s heart overflowed with love for his brother. He sat up on the bed and reached for Dean’s hand, pulling him gently to sit on the mattress beside him and putting his arms around his neck.

“I am one hundred percent sure of this, Dean. The only thing I’m worried about if how to make sure that you enjoy it as well. I know I’m not as experienced as you, but I want, it matters to me a lot, that you enjoy this as well.“

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Now please. Whatever you’re going to do, just do it. Please. Before I come just looking at you.” He pulled Dean’s mouth to his once again and delved into his mouth with his tongue, already putting into practice what he had just been taught. This time though, he felt secure enough to finally let his own hands begin to wander, not far at first, but up beneath Dean’s shirt so he could get to the warm muscular torso beneath.

Dean broke the kiss, removed his hands, sat back a little and removed his shirt. Sam thrilled as he, for the first time in his life, could openly admire his brother’s form without having to peek around a book or over the cover of his laptop. His cock bobbed at his belly button, nearly getting sore as he was so close to coming.

Dean glanced down at it with interest and Sam noticed a visible corresponding motion from beneath his sweatpants. “We’ll have to start again, I think.”

Even as Sam began to ask what he meant, the words were jerked literally away from him as Dean suddenly slipped to his knees beside the bed, leant forward and took Sam’s cock completely in his mouth. Sam could only moan as he felt the entire length of himself slip right down his brother’s throat without so much as a cough, let alone a gag. Dean pulled up once with his mouth, then back down, and that was it. Sam came. Right there. Right into Dean’s mouth. He gasped and moaned as the climax tore through him and still Dean took it without a whimper or any indication that he was struggling in any way. Sam could feel himself throbbing, could even see the slight movement inside his brother’s throat. Eventually he recovered himself enough to speak.

“Oh fuck.”

Dean chuckled around his wilting cock and finally pulled off it with a slurping noise. “That okay?” His voice had changed back to his normal self-assured, cocky, deep gravelly, lust-filled, incredibly sexy in every way one: he was no longer worried, his whole demeanour had returned to normal. Now he had decided, fully decided that he was going to do this, he was going to give Sam the night of his life. And Sam hoped, every other night after that as well.

“Oh God yes.” Then Sam felt ashamed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t control myself to last longer.”

“We’ve got all night yet, Sammy boy.”

Sam felt his cock twitch again at just those words. He lay back on the bed and held out his hand. Dean took it and moved to lie on top of him, his still clothed legs outside Sam’s long, naked ones. “Ever tasted yourself, Sam?”

“Not for a long time. Not since Jess. But she wasn’t too keen.”He admitted as he raised his head to meet Dean’s mouth with his open lips. He was amazed again, and really turned on, as to how soft Dean’s lips were, and how warm and gentle. He couldn’t contain the moan as his brother began to explore every last inch of Sam’s mouth with his tongue. For a long moment, all Sam could taste was the saltiness of his own cum, but then, as he also began to lick and explore, he got past that to Dean’s own taste, the taste that he had discovered earlier and already loved. He could never have described it but it was unique and as erotically perfect as his brother. He could spend every night just doing this.

Then his cock told the lie as it once more took on a life of its own. Dean felt it knock against his own beneath his sweatpants and chuckled into Sam’s mouth, sending a deep sensual rumble right through his body. Dean broke away from his mouth and began to explore. His lips were on Sam’s neck, behind his ears, beneath his jaw. Sam could feel his brother’s tongue, oh god that tongue, tasting and licking everywhere, even his teeth nibbling occasionally but never biting.

And his hands were somehow everywhere all over Sam’s upper body, had he got more than two hands? Because Sam felt like he was being lulled into a stupor with the skill of those hands. He wanted to reach for Dean, wanted to touch him and kiss him in return, but oh fuck, with those hands and those lips on his body he couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. Never wanted to again.

He realised lazily that Dean’s mouth was now following his hands, licking and nuzzling everywhere that they had just caressed, and he was working his way down Sam’s body towards his now completely hard and ready cock. 

Sam came to a little and his eyes opened wide, already so desperate for that mouth to seal around his cock again. He didn’t know how Dean could have done that, but oh fuck, it felt so good. He almost whimpered as his brother carefully and deliberately licked around the area without touching his cock at all, except when it bumped its protest against his cheeks. Then his breath caught as he felt Dean’s chin just at the V at the top of his legs, using his stubble to coax Sam into spreading them wider.

Sam had never ever thought about the slight raspiness of stubble on his skin before, but as Dean gently nudged his way between Sam’s legs, scratching them deliberately with his raspy chin then soothing the areas immediately with his tongue and mouth, Sam all but came again. To stop himself he caught his cock with one hand around the base and clutched at Dean’s hair with his other hand. It was then that he realised something else he had never ever thought of: just how soft his brother’s short hair was. He always joked at him for keeping it so short, just as Dean always grumphed at him for having such long hair, but now he suddenly realised that it wasn’t only soft in the soft hair sense that his own was, it was soft like the softest strokable fur, like a baby rabbit or puppy’s fur was. Almost velvety against his bare skin as Dean’s head contacted with it. 

“Oh God!” He couldn’t stop himself from moaning aloud.

He was aware of Dean’s green eyes glinting up at him from beneath his long lashes. “You like that, eh, Sammy?” And then Dean did it all the more but intentionally. Scratching with his stubble at Sam’s so rarely exposed skin, rubbing his soft head against Sam’s now wide spread inner thighs and balls with almost feline actions, and continuing to lick and nibble with his mouth.

“Oh God, Dean.” Sam was arching on the mattress now. “Get back on my cock now! Please!”

“Not yet, Sammy.” Dean replaced Sam’s hand on the base of his cock suddenly. “I’ve got to get you properly prepped yet.”

“What?” Sam wasn’t fully sure what that meant but he was quite prepared to find out. A small part of him wondered quite how Dean could be so good at this, but he wasn’t going to spoil the moment by asking. Besides, his brother was now licking his cock, running his lips up and down the shaft, tickling the hole with his tongue to torment Sam who was past thinking anything other than trying not to beg for Dean to allow him to come again. But Dean’s grip was tight and firm on the base of his cock and he knew Dean was in control of everything that happened now. 

And then he realised that Dean was sucking his own fingers at the same time. Then he was saying “Relax, Sammy. Just relax,” and lifting Sam’s hips just a little, pushing his legs just a little wider apart and gently, so very gently, reaching beneath Sam to push one of his wet fingers inside him.

“Ohhhhhhh.” It was all Sam could say. “Oh Dean. Another. Fill me up.”

“Ssshhh.” But Dean complied. Sam could feel the two fingers inside his asshole, stretching him out. For a moment he felt nervous: this was really happening. Then the moment was gone as Dean somehow wriggled his way back up on top of Sam to reclaim his lips, still with his fingers inside him and a tight hold of Sam’s cock.

“Can you take another?” Sam felt the words in his mouth rather than heard them.

“Fuck the fingers. Get inside me. Now!”

“You’re not ready yet. Gotta be right. Just hold on, little brother.” Dean shook his head, never once removing his tongue from Sam’s. “It will be worth the wait, I promise.” With one final suck of Sam’s tongue, he moved away again, heading back down the bed towards Sam’s long legs.

Sam wasn’t sure what Dean was doing for a minute. He had released his hold on Sam’s cock, which still bobbed around furiously but not quite so painfully and instead was using his free hand to pull Sam’s right leg up off the bed so that he could get his left shoulder beneath it. At the same time he somehow managed to get one of the pillows, which Sam now realised he had removed from the head of the bed, beneath Sam’s momentarily raised hips. Then he was laying down in the space between his brother’s legs that he had just created.

Sam broke out in a sweat. Surely he wasn’t going to? He could hear Dean’s voice rumbling up from between his legs: it sent shivers of desire down his spine worse than anything so far. “Some like both legs over my shoulders, some just one. You find what you like. Just hold me there. I’ll do this as long as you want.”

“Oh God. Oh Jesus.” Sam’s hips jerked as he felt Dean’s long, muscular tongue lick straight from behind his balls to join his two fingers still playing in Sam’s ass. He was too late to grab his cock this time, he came again and sprayed all over himself. But even as he convulsed on his brother’s tongue and fingers, he became aware he was either still hard or had already hardened again. His end was throbbing and leaking, but was still fully ready to go. And as he felt Dean chuckle into his ass, a really filthy, dirty laugh of complete assurance in what he knew he was doing, Sam could only try and control the rapid thumping of his heart and dazedly try to draw enough breath to last whatever Dean had in mind.

Dean paused enough to comment. “You’re a real blasphemer for someone who says they believe, Sammy.”

“Fuck you.” It was Sam could manage to respond with. He felt sticky and shivery and exhausted, and still so fucking horny at the hands of his brother.

“Your turn this time.” And Dean pushed another finger in to Sam’s ass, stretching him out as much as possible while somehow still managing to get his tongue in as well. Sam could feel Dean’s teeth against his ass cheeks although he knew his brother was trying to cover them with his lips so as not to hurt him. He wouldn’t have cared if Dean had champed down and chewed on his buttocks, he had never been turned on so much in all of his life.

Remembering what Dean had said, he pulled his left leg up over Dean’s shoulders as well, rubbing his feet against his brother’s back, letting his long lower limbs fall wide apart, trying to find how to get Dean’s tongue as fully into him as he could. He stroked Dean’s hair, he couldn’t help himself. Then he tried bracing his feet against the mattress either side of his brother’s shoulders and pushing up a little with his hips. Oh, that was good. He felt rather than heard Dean grunt his appreciation, he could feel his tongue right inside him, how could just that feel so fucking good? He stayed in that position, feeling Hot with a capitol H, and dirty, really filthy downright dirty, and worshipped and enslaved and satisfied and longing to be brought to the frenzy he knew would be coming, for as long as he could until his limbs began to shake, all the time stroking his brother’s soft head like it was a small animal between his legs.

As he collapsed back down, all but sitting on Dean’s head in the process, his brother pulled back, still with his fingers inside Sam. “You ready to try?”

“Get inside me. Now.”

Dean laughed, removed his fingers and got off the bed. Sam whimpered after him, oh fuck, he was actually whimpering, what had just happened? Where had Dean gone? Then he realised that Dean was rummaging around in his travel bag and retrieving two items from it. Sam heard the crinkle of the packet as the condom was opened. He felt a moment of sudden, intense disappointment: he wanted to ask Dean not to use it, but as his brother rejoined him on the bed, already sheathed and opening the lubricant, the moment passed and all his dreams were happening right here and now.

Dean pushed him down again on the bed and knelt between his long legs close to his ass. “I’ve got to ask again. No going back after this. Are you sure this is what you want?”

This time Sam was losing patience. “Dean. If you don’t get inside me right now then I swear I am going to tie you up for the rest of your life and just use you as a sex toy to pleasure myself on for every minute of every hour of every day of it!”

His brother hesitated.”So that’s a yes then?”

He laughed as Sam roared and lunged at him, trying to straddle his knees so he could ride Dean’s cock. But Dean was more than ready for him this time and simply picked him up and put him back on his back, leaning over him slightly and slipping his hands beneath Sam’s hips so he could raise him slightly, pull the pillow back into position and line himself up with Sam’s stretched asshole.

“You can try that next time. You can take control all you want. But for this time, let me do it for you, okay? This may hurt. It will definitely feel weird the first time. Just say if it’s too much.” 

“Just get on wi....!” Sam’s words were cut off as Dean finally pushed into him. It did feel strange. He thought he was already loose, but Dean’s cock was so thick and heavy that he couldn’t speak for a moment as he felt his brother work the head in.

Then he paused to give Sam time to try and relax. “You good?” 

Sam’s eyes were shut. He opened them and smiled at Dean. “Oh yeah.” He felt almost drunk with pleasure.”Just get in, Dean. Fuck me, please!”

He closed his eyes again, savoured every sensation of every inch as Dean carefully and gently opened him for the first time with just tiny little thrusts, each one pushing a little further than the last, until Sam could feel the warmth of his brother’s skin and the tickle of his hairs against Sam’s ass. He wriggled beneath Dean, pushing even harder onto him. Sam could see Dean raising his eyebrows in surprise and studying him with those vivid green eyes as the light of the low set bedside table lamp lit his face.

Sam grinned up at him and held out his arms. “Come here.” As his brother bent himself over to meet his lips, he began to thrust into him, slowly at first. Sam moaned, he couldn’t help himself.

“That okay?”

“Oh God, yes. Don’t stop.” 

“By the way,” Dean muttered into his mouth. “That what you said about tying me up and using me as a sex toy was actually quite a turn-on!” 

Sam laughed, slightly maniacally. He caught Dean’s tongue between his teeth and held on, not biting, but just to let Dean know that he could. Then Dean was pulling his tongue away, lifting up on his biceps and setting up a steady rhythm of thrusts. Sam wondered what he was doing as he began to adjust Sam’s body beneath him, turning him slightly, pulling Sam’s hips up an inch, around a little. Then suddenly he knew why.

“Oh fuck! What was that?”

Dean grinned down at him. “Your prostrate! Found the angle! Want me to do it again?” 

“Hell yeah.” This was said in more of a moan than anything else.

And Dean did, every single time.

Sam could see the sweat already beginning to drip from Dean’s body as he really began to thrust now, holding his own weight up on his arms, keeping the rhythm going, if anything speeding it up, and every time rubbing against that spot inside Sam that he had heard about but never before had fully experienced. He moaned loudly every time, he couldn’t stop himself. He sounded like every girl that he had heard with his brother through the walls of the motel rooms had sounded. But he still wanted more. He still wanted deeper, still wanted every last part of his brother inside him.

He began to move his legs around just as he had when Dean was eating him out, his brother somehow raising his arms one at a time to let him while still holding himself up and not once losing the rhythm. Sam would have been impressed by him if he were not already amazed at himself and his own flexibility. Somehow he had managed to get both of his incredibly long legs doubled almost between their bodies so both his knees were right over Dean’s muscular, glistening with sweat shoulders and his feet were locked together behind his neck so that Sam could hold himself in the perfect, (oh God!), open, (oh Yes!), most accessible, (oh Dean!) position for his brother to pound into him with every inch of his cock.

Then something was building up inside him. Worse than it had that morning even. More than he thought he could take. “Dean!”he gasped. “I’m gonna.....” His climax was the most violent he had ever had. And the most wonderful. He hadn’t even had to touch himself: he just came, spraying sticky cum all over his own and Dean’s chest, chin and face.

Dean just licked around his mouth with his tongue and kept on with the rhythm as Sam gasped, and cried a little, and tried to recover his breath. He could see his brother’s arms beginning to shake with the effort of holding himself there, and see him try to blink away the sweat that was dripping into his eyes, then suddenly he gave such a powerful thrust that Sam felt that he was going to be split in two and held himself there with a growl. Dean actually growled as he came, and Sam felt himself get hard all over again at the feel of his brother throbbing inside him. Then Dean had all but collapsed onto him, and Sam slipped his aching legs down from his brother’s shoulders to instead wrap them around his now soaked body and hold him tight as he tried to recover. 

They lay for a long few moments like that. Then, as Sam felt Dean begin to shiver from the after effects as well as the cold night, he grabbed at the blankets and rolled Dean over physically onto his back with Sam on top, his legs unwrapping themselves as he moved and his knees shifting slightly to either side of his brother so that Sam could curl over his brother and use as much of his own body heat as possible to keep Dean warm. He then wrapped them both in the blankets and nuzzled his head into his brother’s neck. They lay there for a long time, while both their hearts, beating madly against each other’s through their pressed together naked chests, gradually slowed.

Finally Dean was able to speak. “Was that okay?”

Sam stared down at him with a frown. “I suppose.”

He quickly relented when he saw his brother’s expression turn worried and anxious. “Give me about an hour and we’ll try that again. Then perhaps tomorrow morning as well. I‘ll know by then.”

Dean stared up at him with wide eyes, then as he realised Sam was joking, they slowly closed and his face broke into a grin. Sam grinned back at him. He waited for Dean to open his eyes again, then kissed him. A full, slow, long, passionate, ‘I love you’ kiss. Then Dean pushed at him slightly to get him to let him up.

Reluctantly Sam did, moving to lie on the mattress beside him as Dean pulled the used condom off his now limp cock and threw it into the trashcan in the corner. He retrieved his t-shirt and used it to wipe the worst of the sticky cum of himself, handing it in turn for Sam to do the same.

“I didn’t use one on you this morning. I’m sorry, I should have thought of it.”

Dean glanced at him but shrugged as he found his boxers and sweatpants, pulling them back on. “Do you want yours, or are you sleeping like that?”

“Are we sleeping?” Sam grinned at him suggestively.

Dean groaned, not altogether good-naturedly. “It’s still an early start tomorrow…,” he glanced at the clock and corrected himself. “Today. I need some sleep.”

Sam threw the t-shirt on the floor and patted the bed beside him. Dean slipped back in under the covers and reached to turn the light off finally.

“We’re going to get you tested.”

Dean looked at him in the now darkness. “Excuse me?”

“And me as well.” Sam added hastily, realising how that had sounded. “Soulless Sam did a lot of things I’m not proud of. We’re both going to get checked out. And as long as we’re both okay then I don’t want you to use a condom with me. I want to feel you properly. I want to feel what it’s like when you come inside me. I want to feel all of it.”

Dean raised himself up on his elbow in the bed beside him. Sam didn’t need to see his face to know how taken aback he was by this suggestion: well, Sam had to admit to himself, it was more a declaration than a suggestion. He hurried to continue with his train of thought.

“I’m not asking you to be exclusive to me. I’m not expecting you to do that. What you’ve done to me just then was amazing, I want it again, any and every time you can manage. But I know it’s asking far too much for you to want only me as well. So, all I’m saying is: use a condom with them, okay. Always. But when it’s just you and me, then as long as we’re both clean, then you don’t have to. I’d love it if you didn’t.

Although.” His smile turned flirting and he pushed Dean back down onto his back and rolled on top of him again. “I give you fair warning now that I fully intend to keep you so satisfied and so sated that you will be far too tired to look at anyone else.” His head had got nearer to Dean’s with every word until he was now pressing onto his mouth, running his tongue along his brother’s lips, demanding access.

Dean moaned and allowed him entry, but spoke around their tongues as they met and began to taste: “Sammy. I really am tired. I need some sleep.”

Sam gave a happy and really dirty laugh, “I know Big Brother. I’ll let you sleep. Build up your energy!” he added suggestively. With a quick twist of his body, he tipped himself on his back on the bed, pulling Dean with him. Immediately Sam wrapped his arms and legs around his brother possessively, revelling in his warmth and weight against his own still naked skin.

Dean had been taken by surprise again, but sighed. “Sammy. I'm going to be asleep. It's going to be heavy on you.”

“Don’t you worry.” Sam nuzzled Dean’s ear with his teeth. “You sleep, I’ll keep you warm. I can kick you off if it gets too much.”

He didn’t release his limbs at all and Dean knew he wouldn’t. So he took the obvious choice and wriggled slightly down Sam’s long body until his head rested on his younger brother’s chest and he settled to sleep, trying not to think about how easily Sam was moving him around without his permission, and how secure and warm he felt in Sam’s arms, and how uncertain he was by both those thoughts. Soon he was sound asleep.

In contrast Sam laid wide awake, relishing and reliving the details of a mind-blowing day. A day that had started when he had betrayed and abused his beloved beautiful brother to the point where he had fully expected that that would be the permanent end of their relationship, to that exact moment he was living in then, lying satisfied and contented beneath his brother’s sleeping body. He could never have expected Dean to have given all that he had done to him: he still felt terrible shame in asking and he knew he would for a long time. But the reward had been the best sex he had ever had, given by an absolute master at the subject!

Sam’s cock gave a hopeful twitch and sprung fully alert as Sam’s mind went back over some of the details of the past two hours. Carefully he wriggled his body out from beneath Dean enough that he could jerk off without waking him, but still holding him tight with one arm and leg. He never wanted to let go of his brother again in case this had all been just a vivid dream, and releasing his hold caused him to wake from it.

So he just lay half beneath Dean, reliving every minute as his climax grew closer yet again, memories of his brother’s tongue and lips and fingers causing his breath to come faster and his cum to shoot further than it had ever used to before. But as he lay and recovered yet again, one memory rose so clearly that he couldn’t shake it.

He lay and thought of the words over and over in his head. Dean’s words, spoken to him only that morning: “I _know_ what fucking rape feels like! And that wasn’t it!”

Even as his breathing began to settle and his heartbeat slowed, he felt a cold anger grow inside him, an anger that could only be cured by finding whoever had caused Dean to say those words and killing them. Somebody had raped Dean before all of this, some sick bastard had hurt him. And Sam was determined to find them and make them pay.


	4. The Signal

They had been in this new era of their relationship for only about four weeks when the first big test occurred.

Sam had been at the bar getting the drinks: he had finally cottoned on that, if he let Dean get them then his brother would be drinking extra shots at the bar while waiting for ‘their’ drinks to be served. Why had he never realised that before? Sam couldn’t believe he had been so slow on the uptake. He was desperate to curb Dean’s ever more worrying drinking habit, he had been for some years now since he had noticed the occasional empty bottle gradually becoming regular empty bottles. Which is why he was the one at the bar waiting for the tray of drinks while Dean was sitting at the table idly looking at Sam’s laptop and notes.

Sam had already been asked about his brother three times: “Does your friend have a girlfriend?” Or a less direct: “You boys passing through? Looking for a place to spend the night?” Eyes all over Dean, hopeful of hands being able to follow. Even a: “You two look cute together, are you a couple?”

Oh how he wished he could say yes! “No ma’am, he’s my brother. And he’s single.” (And would never be desperate enough.)

“Mmm.”

He was so sick of this. Dean just never believed him that he did get all this attention. He knew he could usually walk into a room, turn on his sexy smile or smirk depending on the situation to get a free drink or a one night stand. But he just never noticed what Sam had noticed years before: that more often than not he was being checked out by many admiring pairs of eyes, both male and female.

Sam had set himself to make a study of it when he was a teenager, wondering just what it was that they all seemed to see when they looked at his brother. He wasn’t quite sure when it had been that he himself had started to see it as well, but he had. But for years he had been proud to walk into any room with Dean by his side: he just wished that he could have managed to have kept him there.

“My my,” Sam caught the lust-filled whispers of the barmaid and her friend. “We are being spoilt tonight.”

Sam followed their gaze to the door and understood their appreciation. A slight, barely noticeable, lull in the undertone of noise of the bar gave the clue that they weren’t the only ones noticing the man who had just entered.

Here was another very good-looking masculine male: tall, Dean’s height, six footish, perhaps slightly taller, chiselled features, dark skin, irises of the deepest brown that only emphasised the white surrounding them, smart immaculately fitted suit that highlighted every sinew of the toned form beneath, manicured strong hands, expensive watch. And an easy, almost predatory way of walking: a man secure in the knowledge that all eyes would be on him at that moment.

Well, almost all eyes. Sam’s gaze had gone immediately to his brother where he sat. Dean was reading Sam’s notes with a frown and had seemed unaware of anything else. Sam was ashamed of himself as he sighed in relief and turned back to the barmaid, who had also recovered herself enough to finally fetch his tray of drinks.

Sam continued to watch the reversed bar reflected in the mirror behind and above her head. The majority of the clientele had already turned back to their own lives, conversations or personal fantasies depending. There were still a few openly ogling the two handsome men in that room: Sam swore he could hear purrs, but he couldn’t have determined from what sex they were emanating from. Then the newcomer was beside him at the bar and ordering a shot.

Sam tried not to make it obvious that he was staring at him in the mirror. He watched as the dark eyes flicked over himself and passed on without interest, and he tried not to smirk as the barmaid and her friend got the same treatment. Although it did niggle a bit that the stranger got his drink served first!

Finally his tray of drinks arrived: four whiskies, two beers. All he had to do now was try and make sure he got half of them and stop Dean from going back for more. He was still watching the beautiful dark newcomer in the mirror as he paid. The other had turned away from the bar and was now making his way to a table.

Sam wondered idly why he was heading to one at the rear of the room, especially when he only had the one small drink in his hand. The one he seemed to have chosen took him immediately past where Dean was impatiently sitting: Sam knew he would get cussed out for the time taken to get the drinks.

As his change finally arrived, Sam watched as the stranger approached and moved to go by his brother. Then he stared. Had that just happened? Had he imagined it? No, he was sure it had. As the tall man had gone past, his head had turned momentarily to glance down at Dean. And Dean, who had seemingly been oblivious to his presence, had glanced up at him: Sam had seen the flash of his eyes although his head hadn’t moved. And he definitely hadn’t imagined the glint as Dean’s eyes flashed towards where he was still standing with the tray of drinks by the bar, then his brother was looking back up at the stranger with a slight, barely even noticeable, shake of his head.

No words were exchanged, the man had moved on without any hesitation. Dean’s seated position hadn’t altered at all. But Sam was sure that they had exchanged a….. he wasn’t sure what, but they had. And if he hadn’t been watching then he certainly would never have noticed. His heart began to race as memories of years of being in bars with his brother, and occasionally other places, jostled to come to the fore of his mind.

Memories of Dean suddenly declaring he was ‘bored and would go and try another bar’, or he would ‘just need some air, see you back at the motel, Sam’ and excuse himself. Or sometimes he would just smirk and follow a lady out, but would never seem to be with them in particular. And Sam had never questioned where he was going or taken any notice really.

But now his breath caught as he realised: how had he never spotted the signal before? Because that was what it had been. Men like this extremely handsome stranger, men like his brother, didn’t want or need their assignations noticed. It was nobody else’s business.

Sam hurried back to their table with the tray of drinks. He was sure that Dean had just been compromised and had refused. Refused because of him. He had probably been tempted, _very_ tempted, but had glanced over at Sam and turned that stunning man down. Sam quickly put the drinks down.

“You can go with him!”

He had actually succeeded in taking Dean by surprise as his eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“That man! I saw him. I saw you. I’m not expecting you to be exclusive, Dean. I know I’m being unfair. You go, it’s okay. Just be sure to use protection.…” His voice trailed off as he saw Dean’s face flush to almost scarlet. “Sorry.” Sam ducked his head, also embarrassed.

His brother recovered himself with a series of blinks and grabbed for one of the whiskies. “What are you talking about, Sam? I’m not going anywhere. What…..?” A second whisky also vanished in quick succession.

“I’m serious. He gave you the signal. And you refused him. It’s okay. I won’t be cross, honestly. And I’d never hurt you again, I swear that.”

Dean stared at him, his handsome face showing a mixture of anger and something else that Sam couldn’t fathom. Then he slowly and deliberately drained both of Sam’s whiskies. “I think I’ve worked something out from your notes. Are you ready for something to eat? I’ll show you after.” One of the beers was now also disappearing.

“You sure?” There was something about his tone that Sam couldn’t place.

Dean paused from packing the notes and laptop away, and from replacing their dad’s journal back into his inside pocket and looked at him. Sam winced at his expression: it had turned so dark.

“I’m not a slut, Sam. Despite what you always think of me. As long as you want…..what you want, then I’ll try. I said I would and I’ll try.”

“I didn’t mean….”

“I fucking know what you meant.”

And with that he was finishing up Sam’s beer and getting up to head for the restroom. Sam watched the tenseness in his stride as he went. Where had that outburst come from? He was left slightly stunned as well as extremely thirsty. But he quickly gathered his own things up and made his way out to the Impala.

As he unlocked it and stowed the gear, Sam heard the bar-room door open behind him. He turned expecting to see Dean emerge, but was surprised to see the handsome dark stranger exiting and moving across to an extremely smart dark blue, modern sports car.

On an impulse he called over: “Leaving so soon?”

The dark, wow, _so_ dark eyes glanced over at him with amusement as he turned to respond. Sam felt shivers run up and down his spine as the man’s voice was so deep, so educated, and _so_ sensual. “Yes. The first prize was already taken. I don’t settle for second.”

His eyes travelled openly and slowly up and down Sam’s body, returning to his face. “I’m surprised a man like that would bother with a boy like you, but I suppose there’s a certain coltish appeal. All long limbs and smooth skin.”

Sam felt himself blush at the obvious implication behind the remark.

“Is there a problem here?” He was relieved as well as even more embarrassed when Dean was suddenly there as well, his normally deep voice somehow and impossibly having gone lower and even more gravelly than usual. He glanced at Sam as he sized up the situation.

The handsome man visibly shivered with appreciation at the sound, and took a much longer time to admire every inch of Dean as he allowed his eyes to wander over his body and pointedly settle on his lips as he answered.

“No problem at all. I was just talking to your young…friend.”

Sam began to panic inside his head: ‘Please don’t say brother, please don’t say brother!"

But Dean remained silent: he just stood and studied the stranger like a leopard would focus on a long-legged antelope. The other man returned the gaze in much the same way and Sam found himself wondering which one of them _was_ the prey and which the predator? Then the man was reaching inside his jacket for an expensive looking wallet and withdrawing his card.

Pointedly he stepped around Sam to offer it directly to Dean. “I’m usually to be found in Washington, but for you, I might be around. In case you’re in the mood for something more mature.” He added as Dean reluctantly took the card.

Sam finally managed to take a breath as the stranger turned away but somehow still looking over his shoulder at Dean as he returned to his car, only removing his gaze as he opened the door to get in.

And in that instant Dean had glanced around them quickly to make sure they were alone. The moment the man was seated in the car and his attention returned to the brothers, he moved forward to pull Sam round to face him, reached up to take his face in his hands and drew Sam’s mouth down to his own. It was a full, lazy, deep kiss. Sam felt his legs begin to buckle. He knew Dean was only doing it for the stranger’s benefit but he still never wanted it to stop. Especially as it was the first time, and probably the last time, that his brother was kissing him in public. He had never even dared dream about this.

He was breathless when Dean finally ended the kiss and gratefully moved to rest his forehead against his brother’s. “That was wonderful.”

“Yeah. The bastard hasn’t gone yet.”

Sam bit his lip, but dared to peek sidelong below his long eyelashes. The handsome man was openly watching them, his lips apart, the pink of his tongue clearly visible. Then he smiled, nodded slightly at them, Sam wasn’t sure which of them this was to. Finally he started the engine which roared easily into life, and pulled smoothly away out of the car park.

Neither brother moved until the sports car was out of their view. Then, and only then did Dean move hastily away from Sam.

As he began to open the door to the Impala, Sam finally managed to find his voice. “I love you.”

“Yeah, Sammy, I love you too.” But it was a mechanical response, the automated reply that he had used ever since Sam had been old enough to say the words to his brother. (Or as close as he had first managed to get: ‘I wuv oo, Dee.’)

Sam sighed. “No. I really mean it. I love you.”

Dean stared at him momentarily then to Sam’s distress, just got into the driver’s seat and closed the door. Sam walked around to the passenger’s side and also got in.

He took a deep breath, his mind still rippling with pleasure from that kiss. “I always have. I always will. I just need you to know that. Even if you never say it back and mean it in that way. I love you.”

He was aware of Dean just looking at him and wondered how or if he would respond.

“Let’s get back.”

Sam felt tears prick at the dismissal.

Dean moved to start the engine and realised he still had the stranger’s card in his hand. He threw it dismissively on the floor by his feet. Sam watched it fall.

“Thankyou for standing up for me. I know you’d have liked to go with him.”

“Enough, Sam.”

“I mean it. Even _I_ felt the attraction.”

“Saaam.” It was a low growl, a warning growl.

“Is that how it works? Is it something that you all just worked out? Or? How do you know? When someone’s interested? Or when _you’re_ interested?”

“For God’s sake, Sam!”

“I just…. I just want to know. How did I _not_ know? How have I never seen….? But I mean it. If you want to. We’re not exclusive. I’d never ask you to be exclusive to me. If you want to, then you can. I….”

“Sam. Just shut up! Just shut up.”

Sam closed his mouth in a hurry. Dean was sounding to be at breaking point. For an instant, Sam felt like a child trying to participate in an adult world that he just couldn’t understand. But then the moment had passed and he knew he _did_ understand it. Or at least the part that mattered to him. It might not have been right in the moral sense, but it felt right in the personal and physical sense. To him anyway.

Carefully, slowly, he slid his left hand across the seat to cover Dean’s right hand where it was resting down beside him. Dean frowned but didn’t pull away.

“I know this is fucked up, Dean. I know I’m the one who’s _fucked_ it up! But I don’t care. As long as you’re okay with it. Or as okay as you can be. Because I Do…Love….You.”

There was a long silence in the car. Then to Sam’s relief he felt Dean’s fingers part beneath his, allowing his longer fingers to respond to the gaps and quickly fill them with his own, so their hands could interlock together as one strong whole.


	5. The Aftermath of Amy

_“You really want to know what’s wrong?”_

_“Yeah. You know my motto, here to help.”_

_“Here to help. Kind of like you helped Amy?”_

_“Listen Sam.”_

_“Don’t lie to me again. Don’t even talk to me. I can’t.”_

_“You can’t what?”_

_“I can’t talk to you right now. I can’t even be around you right now. I think you should just go on without me.”_

_They stared at each other for a long moment._

_“Go.”_

_Dean looked at him and turned away. “Alright. Sorry Sam.”_

_But his brother was already walking away, his few belongings over his shoulder._

Dean stared into the trunk of the stupid little car that he already hated so much at the blue coverings of the severed heads. Shit. After everything he had done, Sam had just walked away. Again.

But this time was different. This time, Dean was actually calm about it. No. This time he was pissed. Amy had killed four people that they knew of, and Sam was still choosing her. Well, fuck him. And this car. And these disgusting heads.

He set about disposing of them like they had come there to do. And then he was damn well going to go and get _his_ car! Change the license plates again, do any other little unmutilating modification he could think of but he was damn well having his car again. Despite what Frank had said to do. Their doppelgangers were dead anyway. He had watched their deaths being reported in, so the hunt should be off them.

Fuck it. Sam had gone again. And Dean was getting the Impala back.

It was late by the time he arrived where they had hidden her while the manhunt for them had been going on.

“Hey, Baby.” He climbed into the driver’s seat and felt safe. And home. To him, this was Home.

He didn’t know what to do or where to go next, but he was Home. Fuck it, he might as well try and get some sleep.

It was while he was stretching out, trying to get comfortable that he noticed the card on the floor. He picked it up wondering what it was, then inhaled appreciatively as he could still scent the lingering cologne. He studied it for a long moment. He didn’t usually call men. In fact he never had. But... Everything else in his life had changed so fast these last couple of months....

Before he could chicken out, he was dialling.

And before he could change his mind, it was answered.

“Hey. I don’t know if you remember me but we met at a..... Oh you do! You recognise my voice? That’s good to know.

Well. I don’t know if you’d be interested still. I know, I’ve seen all those images of the news as well. But that wasn’t me. He just looked a little like me. Just coincidence. And my ‘friend’. It’s a long story. But at least those two have been found and killed now: have you seen all the news headlines? At least I can sleep easy now, grateful not be mixed up in it all or have the cops calling on the wrong person.

Anyway, I’m sorry to have bothered you....

What? You have a cabin where? And some leave due to you? That sounds great. No, I don’t have anywhere to be at all. Not for days. Maybe even weeks. I think I’m due a vacation too. I’ll meet you there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words in italics 'borrowed' from Supernatural season 7, episode 6, probably copyrighted. Apologies if so, but no misuse intended.


	6. Sibling Acts Are Tough

Sam thought they were okay.

He had apologised, although he had had a go about Dean lying to his face. But they had both got into that mismatched blue car that Dean had stolen. And Sam had thought they were okay.

Until he had reached to put his arms around Dean and his brother had smacked him down. _Hard_.

“Not happening!”

“What the? Why?”

“You left! You promised! You’re sick of my _lying_? _I’m_ sick of your promises!”

The peace had immediately shifted into a quarrel, then a full-scale row. Which had resulted in Dean driving somewhere that Sam didn’t know, getting out of the strange blue car, grabbing his bags and vanishing into an old barn. Luckily Sam had had sense to grab his own belongings and follow, before Dean could take off in the yet again hidden Impala.

“You crazy? Frank told us not to use this? It’s too distinctive!”

“I don’t fucking care. I trust it! It’s the only fucking thing left that I do!”

Sam jumped in beside him with his belongings and the verbal fight continued. It did all the rest of the day. And promised to that night as well.

“I’ll go and book us in.” Dean got out of the car without looking back and crossed to the small reception. Sam sighed and went to fetch both sets of bags.

He had them all in his hands by the time Dean returned, holding yet another door key.

“I’ll bring mine.”

His tone seemed calm, but Sam could hear the threat of violence held beneath it. Dean was trying to control it, trying to contain the hurt of yet another betrayal. In a way he was glad Dean was angry at him. Because he knew he deserved it. It had only taken him only one night’s clear thought to realise that, and by then it had been too late.

“I can bring them for you.”

Dean grabbed for his bags, his jaw set tight. Sam stepped back a little instinctively at the sudden movement. “You just get the door.”

It was an order. Sam hastily obeyed and took the key from him, relinquishing his belongings to him. As he stepped away and began to walk towards the room, he was aware with every one of his strong instincts that Dean had just stopped by the car. Sam knew that if he turned around he would see his brother leant with his head against the cool metal, trying to compose himself and his temper.

He unlocked the door, opened it, and stood in confusion for a moment. “Dean? They’ve only given us a single!”

As he turned around, he realised that Dean was back in the Impala. So were his bags. And he was starting the engine and pulling away. The confusion cleared as Sam realised.

“Dean! Wait! We can talk about this!” He dropped his own stuff and began to try to get to the car before it could turn the corner onto the main road, but he was too late. He could only watch as his brother accelerated up the street and disappeared from view after the next junction. Sam swore viciously out loud.

All he could do was return to his belongings. He stood and glanced into the small room. He didn’t know what he had expected to happen, but it hadn’t been this. It didn’t matter that he knew he deserved it. All that mattered now was finding Dean and doing whatever it took to convince him that he was sorry.

With that in mind he closed the door again and gathered up his stuff. It only took a few minutes to return the key to the reception with an apology that he wouldn’t in fact be needing the room after all. He had already picked out a likely looking car to ‘borrow’ for a couple of hours from the few in the lot. It wasn’t a car fast enough to catch the Impala, but it was parked beneath trees that would hide him from view from any CCTV cameras around.

He was on the road himself within minutes. Which way would Dean go? The next town definitely: he wouldn’t stay here. And he’d want to go fast so he would drive straight. So all Sam could do was drive straight as well and hope to see the big black machine that was his brother’s only home parked outside a bar or other motel somewhere. Probably a bar. Definitely a bar. Dean would find a bar. And try to get drunk.

He had driven through two small towns before he finally saw the Impala. He was grateful that Dean had gone and got it: he couldn’t have described that other car if he’d had a picture of it in his hand. Even so, he nearly just drove past. Dean hadn’t parked it in the parking lot, but in the street around the corner from the bar. Sam guessed that there had been something stopped behind it originally that Dean had hoped would hide it from immediate view from the main road. Either that or he just didn’t care whether Sam had followed or not, the call for drink becoming too strong.

Sam parked further up the road and carried his bags back to the Impala. To his relief, his brother had forgotten to lock it: Sam didn’t dare think about the consequences if he’d had to jemmy the door open. Quickly he stowed his gear in the rear seat and pressed the locks down himself before going to find Dean.

He wasn’t difficult to spot as soon as Sam entered the dimly lit room. Dean was on a seat by the bar, his head in his hands, an empty shot glass by his elbow. Sam sighed and called upon all his acting skills before he approached him.

“What the?” Dean started as Sam’s hand deftly reached into his jacket’s right pocket and confiscated the keys.

“Not a good idea for you to drive home, big brother!” Sam’s voice was intentionally loud for the small audience in the bar. “I’ll take you when you’re ready!” Most of the onlookers immediately lost interest and returned to their own concerns at the bottoms of their drinks.

“Get the hell away from me.” Dean snarled at him, but in a much lower tone of voice.

Sam sat up beside him at the bar and signalled to the bartender. “No.” He replied quietly so this time only Dean could hear. “I know I’ve messed up. But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh yeah? For how long this time?”

Sam felt his eyes prickle at the honest accusation, but controlled them. Instead he loudly ordered a soda and waited for it to arrive before responding.

“For good, Dean. I knew almost immediately how stupid I was being, and somehow that made it worse: I didn’t even want to admit to myself how stupid I was behaving! But I’ve missed you so much. This time apart from you has seemed to have been the longest of my life and I had to fight the urge to jump you there and then when I saw you in that café. I’m so sorry.” He placed his hand on his brother’s knee, patting it like a normal consoling sibling would to a drunk family member for the purpose of anybody still watching. He didn’t intend for it to be meant that way and Dean didn’t take it like that either.

“Don’t you touch me.” It was a low snarl, and Sam felt his neck and back prick with sweat at the anger in it. Then his hand was physically pushed off. “Don’t you _ever_ touch me!”

Dean was getting up, beginning to reach for the keys from Sam’s pocket. Sam had to stop him. “Let’s try and get you sobered up, shall we?” He all but shouted heartily with a wry smile on his face. ‘Look at my brother’, it told any of the world that was interested. ‘Look how silly he’s behaving.’

But he already had an iron grip on Dean’s arm that belied the easy words. He all but physically lifted Dean off his feet and proceeded to propell him at speed into the restroom. Dean had no choice but to go with him and try and keep up with his longer strides or risk being pushed over in the middle of the bar. He turned immediately and with genuine rage as Sam shut the door behind them and leant defiantly against it, but managed to wait and check they were completely alone before letting any of it loose.

“What is this, Sam? Why are you here?”

“I’m here to try and talk to _you_ , you idiot! I’ve messed up! I know I’ve messed up. But I’m here to try and put it right.”

“Oh yeah? How? Oh I know! Let’s go to bed! That’s what Sam wants! Then you can tell me how I’ve let you down again and you can go. Again.”

“No. I.” Sam stopped. Tried to think through his next words. “I get why you killed Amy. I do. But she was my friend, Dean. And you just went and did that. And never told me. You lied straight to my face! But I shouldn’t have left you. That was stupid, and petty, and. Immature. I acted immature, and I’ve hurt you. I know that.”

“Oh well. Big whoop! Thanks for that! Can I get out of here now?” He went to try and push past Sam, but was as effective as he had been trying to move a ton of solid rock.

Sam just caught his shoulders and held him. “She was my friend, Dean. I said I’d help her. She didn’t deserve that.”

“And what about the families of the people she killed, Sam? What about them? The first one had two kids: did they deserve that? Did their parents deserve that? And how many had she killed? Four you know of. How many others previously when she was ill, or her son was ill, or she was just hungry? How many more before _you_ say she's killed enough?”

Sam faltered. He knew Dean was right. He hated that he was right. But even worse, he knew how much he had hurt Dean by leaving him again and that was unforgivable. Especially after just how close they had become in the last few weeks and how much Dean had given up for him.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Sam. Not this time.”

“I was just…..”

“What, Sam? You were just what?”

“I was happy to see her again. I owed her. She saved my life. I just wanted to believe her. I did believe her when she said that was it. But you’re right. If it happened once, then it could have happened again.”

“Or already have before.” Dean pointed out vindictively.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Or before. But why didn’t you tell me? Why hide it? Why lie to my face, Dean? Is that what you felt so guilty about when that Egyptian freak got hold of you? Is that why you just accepted his death sentence on you? Why, Dean?”

“How did you react when you did know?” The question was snarled at him.

“I was furious. You killed my friend! How could you have done that? She had a little boy!”

“Well, that’s why I didn’t tell you. Because _she_ mattered to you and the four others that are dead because of her didn’t! Because her little boy mattered to you and _I_ didn’t! You didn’t even look back did you, Sam? ‘Dean the big bad Hunter killed my friend and she had only murdered and eaten four people! And she was such a good friend because I’d met her _once_ when I was a kid and never seen her since. But I trusted her immediately. Because I’m Sam Winchester, the clever one of the family! And my big brother Dean isn’t capable of seeing them as anything but monsters!’

You said the same about Ruby if I remember! That I wasn’t capable of understanding like you could. That I always look for the worst first. Well thanks, Sam. At least I know where I stand with you. And it’s at the bottom of the list below kitsunes and demons! I don’t really need your help to feel like a nothing!”

He had ranted himself out and walked away from his brother in disgust to lean against the wall by the stalls. Sam was stunned and genuinely upset, both at himself for causing this, and for Dean. Because he wasn’t a nothing. He was _everything_. It went straight through Sam’s mind to walk over to him, grab his face and pour his tongue down his throat until he got through to his brother just how sorry he was and how much he did matter to him.

He had just moved his back off the door to do exactly that when it suddenly opened and hit him hard. Sam exclaimed in pain and swore as a middle-aged man in casual clothes entered the restroom.

“Oh, sorry! Didn’t see you there!” He went immediately to the urinals, fiddling with and opening his pants as he went. Both brothers turned away, Sam looking to Dean and biting his lip as his brother refused to even glance in his direction.

The stranger shook himself off and finally picked up on the atmosphere in the room. “Women trouble, huh?”

“What?” It was Sam who felt obligated to respond.

“Women trouble! Between you two? Oh, mind you, when you came in, you said you were brothers! I know all about brother trouble.” He was washing his hands by this time.

“Really?” Dean tried and failed not to sneer.

“Really.” The man wasn’t put off by his tone at all. “I’ve hoped for years to make it up with my brother. If anyone knows trouble it’s him. I mean, it was him.” His face turned sad.

“What happened?” Sam was immediately sympathetic.

“I’m not sure. They said it was an animal attack. A few weeks ago, but they’ve only just managed to trace me. I’ve just been to collect his belongings. In Livingston, it was.”

That caught both of the Winchester’s attention. Livingston was where Amy had killed one of her victims.

“But they won’t give me any details. It don’t seem right though. How could an animal attack like that happen in a town?”

“Was it at his home? Or where he worked?” Sam felt he didn’t really want to know but had to ask anyway.

The man laughed hollowly. “He was a drug dealer. He was a bad’un. I know he was. But he was my brother. He didn’t deserve to die like that.” He indicated the bar on the other side of the door. “I was getting up some dutch courage to go and tell my old mum, she doesn’t know yet. No. It was in an park. In a town park. They said he was partly eaten. How does that happen in a town?”

”Shit happens.” Dean informed him without malice.The stranger nodded. “Although _my_ brother would be telling you that it doesn’t matter as he was only a drug dealer. He deserved everything he got, wouldn’t you say Sam?”

Sam glared at him aghast that he would say such a thing about him aloud. But the man didn’t seem to take offence.

“No, I know what he was. But he was still my brother. I always hoped that he would finally see the errors of his ways and come home.” He sighed. “That’s never going to happen now.”

He looked up to look straight at both Sam and Dean in turn. “I just can’t believe that it happened like that! It must have hurt so much! How would you feel if your brother was hurt like that? Killed like that?”

Sam started to respond but stopped in shock as Dean spoke first. “Oh, I doubt Sam would care much if I died. We were just discussing how little he thinks of me. He’d just be glad to finally get rid.” He wasn’t even feeling sorry for himself, he had said it like a universally known matter of fact.

That was it. Sam couldn’t contain himself. With a roar he was across the room and physically slamming Dean back against the wall, using his greater height and weight to trap and hold him there.

“Now you listen to me, Dean Winchester! I was angry at you, yes. And I acted like a total prick and hurt you, yes! But I would destroy anyone who tried to harm you. And I would follow you back into Hell if the alternative was losing you! And I certainly do not want to get rid of you and I certainly don’t think little of you. I should have listened to you. I wish I had! I love you, don’t you understand that, you moron?”

There was a momentary silence in the restroom, broken by the stranger with a sigh. “That’s it. I wish I could have told him that, despite everything, I still loved him. Do you love your brother as well?” This was to Dean who was still pinned against the wall.

“Oh, Sam has a funny way of showing his love to family.”

It was said with so much malice that Sam exclaimed despite himself. The stranger blinked but fortunately didn’t seem to understand.

Dean finally broke free from Sam’s large hands and pushed him away from him. “I’m sorry to hear about your brother.” He told the stranger with sincerity in his voice. “I hope the news doesn’t break your mother.”

The man nodded. “I hope so too. Thanks. Got time for another drink?” He said hopefully, trying to put off the inevitable.

Dean shook his head. “I think I’ve had enough.”

This was said with a glance at Sam, who immediately understood that he was talking about something else entirely. Dean nodded at the stranger and left the restroom.

Sam sighed, gave a small gesture of farewell to the recently bereaved man and followed his brother through the door. To his surprise Dean was nowhere in sight. He reached into his jeans pocket for the car keys and stopped. Where were they? He had put them into that pocket, he was sure he had.

It was with sudden clarity that he realised the slight touch of Dean’s quick hand into his denims even as he had pinned him against the wall.

“Shit!”

Sam was running and out of the bar just in time to get to the Impala and slam the door closed almost on Dean’s fingers as he unlocked and opened it.

“Sam!”

“Enough, Dean! You’re not running from me again! We’re going to talk about this and get through it!”

“Oh that’s rich! _Who_ walked out on _who_?”

But Sam had grabbed the keys back and was bundling him into the car, immediately following him in and physically shoving him along the seat and away from the steering wheel.

“ _I_ left _you_! Because _I’m_ an ass-hole! But _you_ are the big brother! You set the example! So you’re just going to have to put up with it! And me!”

By this time he had the car started and was pulling away from the kerb. He didn’t know where he was going. He cared even less. But he had Dean with him. Against his will admittedly, but he was there. And Sam was going to take that as a win.


	7. Reunion

He managed to keep his hands to himself for four days, and he didn’t know how he’d lasted that long. To be beside his brother in the car; to smell that natural musky aroma that Sam had known all his life; to sit at a table and eat or drink with him; to hear him laugh easily with and charm total strangers, that was all bad enough. But to return to a small motel room; to know that Dean was naked in the shower just through that door there; or lying in the opposite bed, alone: well, Sam just didn’t know how he’d managed to restrain himself for four days.

He knew he had let Dean down. He knew he had broken his promise. What he didn’t know was how he could even begin to put it right. Dean would talk to him just like they always had, even laugh with him at some stupid movie on TV that they had found on the really, really miserable wet evening when neither of them wanted to risk even running to the car. But he wouldn’t let Sam touch him. Not when handing a bag or weapon from one to another to use. Not when they had to share and read an obituary report quickly before the coroner came back. Not even when Dean slipped on a loose curbstone and fell over, grazing his knee and cutting his right hand so badly that even _he_ knew it should have had stitches.

It was driving Sam crazy. And it had only been four days. He had to do something. He had to try.

Dean was stretched on his small bed, studying news reports on his laptop. Sam was in the shower: he could hear the water running. As soon as he came out, Dean would suggest that they went to a local bar that he had spotted on their arrival. In the meantime, he had work to do.

He was aware of his brother in his peripheral vision as Sam exited the small bathroom amidst clouds of steam. He frowned. He didn’t want to look around. Because from this angle, and he knew he wasn’t looking directly at him, but from this angle, out of the corner of his eye, it looked, it really looked, like Sam was completely naked. And very, very hard.

Dean fought the urge to look around. But the image was like a magnet for his eyes. Eventually he had to give in and look. He swallowed quickly and looked back down at his screen. He had been right. Sam was wandering around the room just pottering; picking items up; tidying things away; idly stretching while he turned on the small TV set in the corner; all while being totally unclothed with his erect cock almost hitting his belly button as he bent over to place his discarded boots together ready for use the next day.

Dean sighed and mentally fought down his own immediately corresponding erection. Then with decision he got up suddenly off his bed and crossed to the door, hoping to slip outside and away from this tempter that was his brother.

He nearly made it.

As he began to open the motel room door, he was suddenly aware of a large hand covering his on the handle. Of a large body behind his own. Of warm breath on his neck.

“Dean. I won’t ask you to stay if you’d prefer to leave. But. If there’s anything I can do to show you how sorry I am, then all you ask to do is tell me."

To Dean’s frustration, the large hand over his own was pushing the door closed. He could feel his brother’s cock knocking for attention against his back, Sam was standing that close. He took a deep breath and rested his forehead against the cool wood of the door, trying to control his suddenly pounding heart and the dryness of his mouth.

Then he felt his brother’s hands gently creeping around his body, his right sliding around to pull gently back on his chest, forcing him closer back onto that... solid shaft of equisite bliss behind him, Sam’s left hand beginning to rub and massage his tense neck and shoulders.

“Dean? I know you’re angry at me. I know. And I’m sorry. Just tell me how I can make it up to you. What do you like?” When and how did Sam get his mouth so close to his ear? He could feel the tiny hairs on his lobe vibrate as Sam’s breathed the words directly on to them.

“Do you like it when I’m in you? Your legs wrapped around me and my tongue inside you as deep as my cock, building you up until you spray all over me? Or do you want me on my knees? Can I, Dean? Can I get on my knees and pleasure you? Sucking you and licking you until your knees buckle? Or would you prefer me on all fours while you pound into me? Oh god, Dean, do you remember when I couldn’t move after and you had to pick me up in your arms and put me on the bed, because you had just pleasured me so much that I couldn’t even get my legs to work beneath me for a while?

I felt so safe in your arms, Dean. I always did. Will you carry me like that again? To your bed? Put me down, and just climb in to me? Make me yours? Make me scream and pant beneath you? Or would you prefer to lie back, pull me on to you. Make me ride you? Like I did that time? You enjoyed that, didn’t you? When I stretched my legs out and leant back on my arms and just rode you, gently. All evening. Your eyes were so dark I couldn’t see any green left and you were begging me to let you come, weren’t you, Dean? You just couldn’t take any more. Dean, is that what you’d like me to do again?”

“Sammy. Don’t do this.”

But Dean’s eyes were closing as he fought to keep his own body under control and knew he was already losing the battle. Despite himself, he felt his head begin to lean back to rest against his brother’s bare shoulder. Gently he was turned in his brother’s strong arms and pulled closer to that solid expanse of smooth, naked skin. He tried to ignore the hint of Sam’s lips against his cheek. Against his mouth.

“Sam. I....”

“I won’t stop you from going out. If that’s what you want, then you can go out. Go to a bar, have a drink or something. I’ll be here when you return. Probably in the bed cos I’ll be cold on my own.” He could feel Sam’s cock against his lower chest. He could feel his own, nearly as large, responding desperately beneath his jeans. “Do you want to go out?”

Sam had his left hand in his larger right one. He was being made, not roughly or against his will, but made to put his hand back on the door handle again and turn it. As it opened this time Sam pulled his body towards his own and stepped back slightly. Dean could feel the sudden draft as fresh air flowed into the room. He saw his brother visibly, sensuously shiver, and noticed a sudden flurry of goose bumps on the smooth skin as the chill hit him. He also noticed how the cold made no difference to the large size of a certain lower area whatsoever.

“For god’s sake, Sam! You’re going to get ill!” It was his natural reaction to use his own body to shut the door again with a loud thump. He was frustrated at himself and how he couldn’t, just _couldn’t_ resist his brother. What was wrong with him? This was wrong.

He had said it out loud. He hadn’t realised he had, but he had. He felt rather than heard Sam’s reply in his mouth as his brother finally caught his chin in his large hand and tipped his head back to claim his lips.

“It’s not wrong. We’re allowed to be happy. We’ve both given enough to be allowed to take pleasure where we can find it. And you _do_ give me pleasure. So much. Every time. I ‘m sorry I let you down. I never will again.”

“Yeah. But this is _wrong_! We shouldn’t do this, Sam!”

“But we _have_ , Dean.” Sam paused and stared down straight into his eyes. “Even if we stop now, we have already. We’re two brothers who have slept together. So if you’re thinking that hell and damnation is waiting for us just because of that, despite everything else we’ve been through, then stopping now isn’t going to change the fact that we _have_.”

Even as Dean processed that thought, Sam was pushing into his mouth with his tongue. He could feel his brother wavering between obstinance, sheer bloody stubbornness, his innate fear of being judged and found wanting by everybody else in the whole entire world, and simmering passion that from the feel of him against Sam, was fast coming to the boil.

“Are you going out?”

He just wanted to check, to make sure Dean couldn’t kid himself that he was being forced rather than seduced.

Dean sighed around his tongue. “You know I’m not,” he admitted. “But I can’t keep giving myself to this if you’re just going to walk away whenever you want, Sam. I can’t. You... I... I can’t.”

“I know, Dean. I’m sorry. I’m ashamed of myself. I should have stayed and talked it through. Thrown something at you! Even that would have been better than just walking away. I won’t ever do it again.”

He had locked the door behind Dean’s back while they were talking into each other’s mouths. Now he began to move carefully backwards, drawing his brother to the bed in a music-less dance, their lips and tongues doing a tango to a different rhythm all of their own. When he finally felt the solidness of it behind his long legs, he sat down and pulled Dean to straddle his lap with his knees, doing it all without releasing his mouth from his own, or his body from his tight embrace.

It was as gentle and as exploratory as when they had begun this, only that couple of months or so ago. That’s what it felt like, a second beginning, to both of them. No hurry, neither of them had anywhere they had to be that night. They could just take their time. So they did.

All too soon though, their mutual lust was causing them to break the kiss. Sam was amazed at how turned on he was at being completely naked with his fully clothed brother astride him. Even as he began to undo Dean’s clothing to correct the lack of symmetry between them, he filed that information away in his head for future reference. Dean moved away from him enough to remove his boots and socks, quickly followed by his jeans and boxers, while Sam helped him with his shirts.

Then to Sam’s surprise and delight, he was returning to the exact same position and finding Sam’s mouth again with his own.

“Can I? Like this?” Sam enquired even as he opened his lips for his brother.

“Yeah.”

It was all the assent he needed. Sam reached for the lubricant on the bedside table, grateful for his long arms.

“When did that get there?” Dean queried, but with a smile in his voice.

“Lube fairy.” Sam informed him, already coating the fingers on his left hand. He was pushing two of them into his brother in the very next instant and groaning as he felt the tightness that he had missed so very, very much.

Dean was also moaning and arching his back against them. “Not going to be able to wait too long tonight, Sammy! It was all your dirty talk earlier. Plus that fucking fantastic naked ass walking around. Wasn’t fair.”

Sam chuckled. “You think you can take me now?”

His brother nodded immediately. “Do it.”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly lubed his cock up and held it steady for Dean to slide down on. He carefully did with a series of increasingly deeper lunges with his thighs that had them both in immediate ecstacy. Once he was fully down, he took a brief moment to control his breathing then began to gently rock his hips astride Sam’s, which had the pleasing effect of making his younger brother fall back on the bed while emitting a long, low series of moans.

“Oh God, Dean. I was supposed to be pleasuring _you_! Oh my God. Don’t stop doing that. Not ever!”

“Wait, Sam. I’ve got to. There.”

He had found the angle that he wanted for himself. Now being satisfied that it would be good for them both simultaneously, he began to work harder, putting the rock hard muscles on his thighs to good use, using them to lift up and push down as he rolled his ass in a devastating rhythm around his brother's cock.

“Shit, I’m not going to last long like this, Dean. I wanted to please _you_ tonight. Wanted you to come first and then with me!”

“S’okay, Sammy.”

“No. No! Let me change position. I _love_ this, but I want you to....”

He was sitting up, catching to hold Dean’s ass in his hands, picking him up physically and turning to put him on his back on the bed, all without leaving even an inch of his body. Now Sam could control the rhythm, as well as being to watch his brother’s face for the signals that he was starting to know so well.

There was the gasp that meant Dean was close to coming. There was the uncontrollable arch of his back. There was the flash of his eyes as he soaked both of their chests and the growl that he couldn’t ever hold back. Sam grinned and kept going, knowing that as long as he could last a few more minutes himself then Dean would no doubt be ready to join in for a second time.

Which indeed he was.

Sam lay and held his brother tightly as they both calmed down, their hearts beating against each other in differing staccato rhythms. How could he have just walked away from this? No wonder Dean had been so upset at him. He was upset at himself for hurting his brother by being so stupid. He could only be grateful to have been given another chance. He mustn’t waste it. Sam was only too aware that this was probably the last one.

He raised himself and moved to kiss Dean lazily. “Ready for round two yet?” He grinned down at him mischievously.

His smile dissipated somewhat when Dean regarded him from beneath his thick eye lashes, kissed him and lay back in readiness. Although he usually went to sleep almost immediately after a session, tonight he was _wide_ awake!

“Bring it on, Sammy boy! Bring. It. _On_!”


	8. Deepest Desires

Dean must have burned the bones as the spirit suddenly went up in a blaze of fire and smoke. Sam sighed in relief as he was able to move again and hastened to the glowing orb that contained the imprisoned sprite whose power the ghost had been feeding off. As he smashed it, just momentarily he could see the physical image of the being. To his surprise she appeared to be an old woman. She smiled at him in gratitude, a toothless, knarly smile and held out her hand.

“You shall have your deepest desire....” he felt the words in his head as a little magic sparked from her hand and settled in dust around him. Then she had gone, faded away as if never there.

Sam blinked just as Dean came racing around the corner. “You okay?”

Sam accepted the worry in the deep voice with a smile: he had finally come to terms with the fact that Dean would always be protective of him.

“I’m good” he reassured him. “It all went well. Let’s clear up and get out of here.”

Later at the motel he was still wondering about those words, about the possibilities that it could mean. If that had happened just a couple of months ago, there would only have been one, one fantasy that he had had for so many years that he couldn’t even remember when it had begun: he had wanted physically to be with his brother so long that he almost felt that he had been born especially to be Dean’s. Now though, as they more often than not shared one bed, he wondered about what his deepest desire could be now. He decided to take a shower while he thought about the options.

When he came out of the bathroom, Dean was still working on his laptop at the small table, looking for another job to go to already. Whatever he was looking at on the screen was bright: it illuminated his brother’s face with a greeny-yellow glow that highlighted the ever-increasing worry lines that were appearing around his eyes and mouth. It even cast a shadow on the wall behind him, a clear image of Dean’s solid body and head in silhouette.

Sam dropped his damp towel and lay out on one of the beds. “Dean! Turn that off now.”

Dean paused in his reading and glanced over, then did a double take at Sam’s long, long and very naked body stretched out waiting for him, Sam’s cock fully erect and bobbing as if in summons. “Come to bed” Sam added with a smile.

Dean stared at him momentarily, Sam tried not to blush as his brother’s eyes travelled up and down his body, then with a smirk that veered dangerously into a leer, Dean closed his laptop, moved to the door to check it and turned off the lights. There was some sign outside that cast a yellowy neon glow into the room so it wasn’t completely dark and the brothers could see each other perfectly well as Dean came to kneel beside the bed.

Sam sighed as Dean reached up to catch his face with his hand, as gently as always, and pull Sam sideways and down to meet his own soft lips. Sam always had the same thought as their mouths first brushed together: it always amazed him that his brother could be so strong, so solid, his hands so calloused and thick, but his lips so soft, so moist, so warm, so perfect. Then the thought was lost as he simply gave his mouth to Dean’s, allowed him to probe and explore with his muscular tongue until Sam felt he would melt with pleasure.

Even more so when he felt Dean’s roughened but always gentle hands begin to run up and down the top half of his body, caressing and rubbing every last inch of his chest, sides and back. Dean finally broke the kiss, leaving Sam slightly breathless. He lay back, but still on his side as his brother moved to follow his own hands with his mouth, nuzzling, kissing, tasting, and licking everywhere they had just been, where they were still going as they explored Sam.

Dean shifted his knees on the floor to reach the lower half of the bed, and Sam, with his mouth. Leaning forward he began to work on Sam’s cock with his tongue, while his hands still carried on their wanderings. Sam couldn’t help but moan at the attention as Dean’s flattened, moist, knowledgeable tongue found and pleasured every single tingling inch of him. Then he nearly lost it as Dean raised himself up and deepthroated him suddenly. He could feel himself at the back of his brother’s throat and knew that if Dean hummed, which he was want to do in this particular situation, that he, Sam, would be totally out of control.

“No! No.” He grappled for Dean’s short, soft hair and pulled his brother off him with a slurpy plopping noise. “Not like this. Not right now. Want to be in you, want you around me. Please! Hurry.” He winced at his own words – what was it about being like this with Dean that reduced him to barely coherent speech?

But Dean understood and just grinned, damn that smirk of his, and pulled Sam’s left hand to his own mouth, sucking his long fingers right into the warmth inside and giving them the same consideration he had just used on both Sam’s mouth and cock. At the same time he started to undress himself, still in his position on the floor and Sam could barely breathe as he watched his brother’s hard, muscular body be uncovered.

“Hurry!” it was all he could gasp.

Then Dean was up on the bed, up over him, pushing him to lie on his back with Dean straddling his groin. He could feel Dean’s erect cock knock against his own and nearly gave into the temptation of just pulling his brother down on him and rubbing against him to get his relief. But he wanted to wait, wanted more, he had to wait. But he wanted it now, right now.

He tried not to be rough as he pulled his saliva-slicked fingers out of Dean’s mouth, immediately putting them to the intended purpose of entering Dean’s perfect ass. One, then as soon as he could, two. Dean’s mouth was back on his own, in his own, his hands were still, oh god what were his hands doing? Concentrate Sam, concentrate on your fingers, can he risk three now? Mustn’t hurt Dean, mustn’t hurt Dean, But oh god, he wanted to be in there.

He felt Dean’s words in his mouth rather than heard them “Where’s the lube?”

“Under the pillow.” He felt sudden childish disappointment as Dean raised his body up off his enough to reach the small container, then sat up a little and removed it from Dean’s hands.

“You put it on me.”

Dean nodded and held out his hands for Sam to squirt the cold liquid into them, then, as his brother then carefully lubricated every inch of his cock, Sam nearly came there and then. “You’re doing that on purpose” he hissed as he grabbed and squeezed the base of himself to try and stay in control.

Dean’s only reply was a throaty chuckle.

Then his brother was manually moving his body, pulling him to the edge of the bed so he was seated with his feet on the floor. And Dean was straddling his lap, standing astride his legs but facing away from him, feeling for his slicked cock, putting his own ass in the correct position. With a deep breath, he began to sit onto Sam and push down. Sam’s eyes almost rolled back in his head at the heat, at the warmth, at the tightness, at it all. He forced himself to remain stationary as Dean carefully took in every long inch of Sam inside himself, Sam could feel his tight buttocks against his skin, then once Dean was ready he began to move, using his powerful thighs to raise and lower himself on the erect skewer of Sam’s cock.

Sam gasped and moaned, he couldn’t help it. He wanted to reach to Dean, to thrust into him, but at the same time he wanted to savour this, wanted it to last and enjoy every sensation of being inside Dean. His brother made the decision for him, reaching out to grasp his larger hands with his own slicked ones, pulling them around his torso so Sam could hold him tightly; pull his back even closer to his chest; place his hands on his hips then reach one forward to wrap around Dean's cock and begin to gently stroke it, unable to give too much else for the moment because his mind was closing down as Dean simply worked on him, feeding his intensity of the fuck.

Then as he felt himself start to gasp and get close he couldn’t contain himself anymore, he had to take charge and bring them both off as one. He threw off his brother momentarily and grappled for his shoulders and ass, turning Dean physically around until he was lying on his back with Sam over and in him, pulling his legs up so Sam could find the right angle, until he could see Dean’s eyes start to roll  and hear him start to moan as well. That was it; Sam couldn’t control his tension anymore and came with a huge roar inside his brother. The action, the feeling inside him triggered Dean’s explosion as well, and he coated them both with his hot, sticky cum. They lay for a long time together, just gasping, just trying to calm breathing, just completely exhausted in a good way.

Then the shivers started, the backlash of good orgasms, and Sam reached for his discarded, still damp towel from the floor, used it to briefly wipe them both down, and pulled the bedcovers around them. He held his brother tight against him and they both slept.

Sam didn’t know what woke him up a little later. If anything, the sign or whatever it was outside had gotten brighter, and it now cast beams of yellowy-green light into their room that he could see clearly by. It was even making shadows on the wall, causing images of the table, of the chair, of Dean.

Sam stopped being sleepy suddenly. His brother was still snoring beside him, he had wriggled away from Sam’s too-much-warmth to lie on his front besides him, Sam could see him there, could reach and touch him. So what was making that shadow? It looked exactly as Dean’s shadow had been earlier from the computer screen, but there was nothing there to cause it. Sam sat up a little trying to figure it out, and the dark figure on the wall turned at his movement.

Sam froze, the shadow was Dean’s, unquestionably, and it was moving, he could see the silhouette of Dean’s nose and lips as it turned, but what? How? It rose suddenly, standing against the wall on which it existed, then moved to its right, into one of the darker areas unlit by the glow. Sam’s heart pounded as he could no longer see it, he stared into the darkness waiting.....for what, he didn’ t know. An attack? From the shadow of his brother? Or..... he didn’t know what.

Long minutes passed. Sam felt his eyes begin to close again. Perhaps it had just been a dream, or his imagination in the moments between sleep and wakefulness? Nothing had happened. Perhaps it had just been a bizarre waking dream. He lay down again, but still slightly unnerved, raised his body enough to climb on top of his still sound asleep brother. He knew Dean would hate this, would grumble about being too hot, but if there was something in that room with them, then at least Sam would have tried to protect Dean from whatever it was. It would be him attacked first, not his sleeping and helpless brother.

He lay down, his full length over Dean’s, and felt sleep once more drift over him. He had nearly gone completely when he felt it.

Hands, calloused rough but gentle hands at his hips, hot breath and a soft probing tongue in his left ear, weight as somebody laid themselves on his back. He recognised it all, recognised the hands as they began to travel his body, knew only one person had a tongue that could do ...that....to him, could trace every inch of the chest that rested against his spine. Only one person. And that person was lying beneath him.

He tried to get up, tried to stop whatever this was, but “sshhh”, he felt a voice identical to his brother’s in his ear, felt the breath ghosting over his neck, felt goosebumps rise at it but not ones of fear but from expectation. “Just relax” the deep voice told him. And suddenly he knew what his deepest desire was. One that should never have been physically possible at coming true, but here it was.

In the time he had realised that, the hands had made their way back to his hips, squeezing beneath them, between them and his real brother’s ass, lifting him slightly away. He gasped as he thought that the shadow hands were going to go around his fast responding cock, but no, they lifted his hips until his knees were slightly beneath them, either side of his brother’s legs on the bed. Then gently, he felt like he was a cat being stroked, one hand returned to his ass and. Sam broke out into a sweat as a finger slipped inside him. He should stop this. This was against his will.

No it wasn’t, his own mind responded – this is _from_ your will – this is what you’ve always dreamt of in your wildest, most lust-filled fantasies. This is _your_ doing.

His own body was betraying him in the meantime. It recognised the being on top of him, knew how good it was, reacted to every perfect touch, every slight stroke of the shadow’s touch. Because it had become his brother, and, oh god, what his brother could do to him. The shadow- Shadow Dean’s mouth was now caressing kisses along the back of his neck, working its way round to his right ear. A second finger was pushed into him. Somehow no lube or saliva was needed, it just felt smooth and right.

Despite himself he moaned, and felt real Dean stir beneath him. He realised that his now fully erect cock was pressing into his brother’s ass cheeks, he shifted his hips so he could lie along the line of Dean’s crack to make it more comfortable for them both.

“Jesus, Sammy, you’re insatiable.” Dean sleepily mumbled and momentarily his head went back down to the pillow with his eyes closed.

Sam bit back another moan as a third digit was inserted into his ass. He felt them inside him, twisting to loosen him, exploring his insides, rubbing at...oh god... don’t do that. His cock responded beneath him, probably poking Dean, the real Dean painfully.

He came awake again, tried to stretch, found he couldn’t. “Wow, Sammy, you’ve got heavier?”

Sam didn’t know what to say, what to do. But Shadow Dean did. It raised itself off Sam just a little, still with its fingers inside him and drew itself up over Sam’s shoulder enough to tongue Dean’s ear. “Ssshhh, relax, just relax, just enjoy.”

Dean did. “I like your deep sex voice Sam, you’re going to use that again,” as he settled nearly back into sleep.

Then Shadow Dean was back giving Sam its full attention with its tongue, pulling his hips back with both hands now, pushing a very hard cock to his entrance. Sam braced, but wasn’t afraid. This was his dream after all. His dream wouldn’t hurt, he knew it wouldn’t. It felt almost natural for the cock to slide inside him, slowly and carefully stretching his insides little by little. Then it was fully in, he could feel the warmth of the body behind and over him, he felt....

It had been a small disappointment to him. The only disappointment when he had persuaded Dean to start sleeping with him. That he enjoyed, very much enjoyed, fucking his brother. And he very much enjoyed being fucked by his brother. But it was physically impossible to do both at once. To be filled and do the filling as it were. To feel both sensations at once. And he would never, never be interested in asking anyone else to join them, because for him, it was only Dean, would only ever be Dean. But now, just tonight he would get the chance to know.

He knew therefore what the shadow Dean was waiting for him to do. Gently he reached with his hands beneath his brother’s hips and began to pull them up, just a little. Just enough. Could he reach the lube? Did they tuck it back under the pillow? Or discard it on the floor? He couldn’t remember. But then Shadow Dean’s hands were over his, helping him pull his sleepy real brother’s hips into position and he knew it would be okay.

“Sam?”

This time it was Sam who sshed him and breathed in his ear. “It’s okay, Dean. I’m just..... I won’t hurt you. I promise I won’t. Just let me....I love you so much...just please, relax, let me in.”

Dean did relax, raised himself enough so Sam could feel his hole. Gently, gently he pushed in, feeling Dean, still loose enough from earlier, stretching around him and drawing him inside to his heat. Sam couldn’t help but moan at the intensity of both feelings at the same time. He didn’t know what he should be doing but instinctively reached his hands for Dean’s, the real Dean’s and brought them round to lay each side of his brother’s head, holding him in place but not so that he felt forced, interlacing their fingers as he loved to do.

“Relax. Just let it...me set the pace, okay.”

“Okay” it was a mumble but not a pained mumble, just a sleepy one.

Then Shadow Dean began to move, thrusting gently inside Sam who in turn was thrust without thinking about it into Dean. The rhythm was steady, wonderful, Sam felt completely filled, just as he always did with Dean, but also he could feel the intense warmth of the real Dean around him, the intense tightness that if he could convince his brother about letting him fall asleep inside every night, then he would. He had no control over what was happening and didn’t care, he just wanted to enjoy.

Dean, the real Dean, let go of his left hand and began to try and get his own beneath himself. Sam came out of his revelry with a sudden panic – was he hurting his brother? “You okay? This....okay?”

“Yeah” it was said in a happy, almost ecstatic slur. “But I just gotta....”

Sam realised suddenly that Dean was on his face, which meant his probably fully erect cock was between him and the mattress, which wouldn’t have been doing anything for Dean at all. That’s why he was trying to move his hand, to get it around himself.

“Here. Let me.” Sam wanted to.

He wanted to feel that Dean was also getting pleasure out of this most unusual of situations. He slipped his large left hand beneath his brother’s body and wrapped it tightly around his cock. The rhythm hadn’t been broken at all while he did so and he suddenly felt that it was all complete, the fantasy was all there.

“Thanksh Sammy.” Dean was awake but relaxed, just letting what he thought Sam was doing to him happen. And Sam, he was just soaking up all the sensations, everything that he could, while he could.

Then Shadow Dean began to thrust harder and deeper, driving Sam harder and deeper into Dean, causing Dean’s cock to begin to leak against Sam’s hand. Both brothers began to moan, which only served to urge the Shadow onto finding a more ruthless rhythm to please them both.

“Oh God, Sam, how you doing this?” Dean was trying to get his knees beneath him to push back but was struggling with the weight of what he thought was just his brother. “Oh God, I....can’t...I...”

“Relax, Dean, relax” Sam was struggling too, he felt he was going to explode, he wanted it to stop, but then again he wanted it never to. The tension inside him rose, an absolutely glorious tension.

Shadow Dean removed one hand from Sam’s hips and reached around him to beneath Dean’s body to help him raise up to get the full effect on his prostrate, Sam still holding Dean’s right hand and finger’s interlocked with his own and his other hand tight around Dean’s cock. Sam felt Dean go tense.

“Sam? How have you got a third hand?”

“It’s the shadow!” Sam gasped, “My desire! It’s you on top of me and beneath me. Oh, please don’t stop it now! Oh fuck!” his voice cracked and broke as he could no longer stay in control of himself, he was at the mercy of the being above him, knew he had a lot of explaining to do for Dean and he didn’t care.

“I...” But Dean stopped.

Sam managed to open his eyes enough to see that Shadow Dean had taken real Dean’s left hand in his, and was holding him, fingers interlaced just as Sam was doing with Dean’s right one. The pressure of the thrusts increased and both brothers knew they were helpless to do anything but finish.

It all happened at once, just as Sam had known it would. He felt the scorch inside him of Shadow Dean’s hot cum, felt the pulsation of his, its, orgasm right through him. At the same time, he exploded into his brother, filling him with everything he could give. And Dean roared beneath him as his own climax into Sam’s hand shook him from head to toe.

None of them moved for a long time. It seemed that not even the shadow felt able to move for a long time. Sam wondered if his brother was being crushed beneath the two of them but could feel his heart racing through his back and against Sam’s chest. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want this to end.

Then Shadow Dean kissed his cheek, gently, tenderly and pulled out of him and off the bed. Sam huddled Dean in his arms but didn’t move other than to whisper in his ear: “Watch the wall.”

He laid his cheek against his brother’s as he turned enough to follow where Sam was meaning. They both watched as the silhouette of Dean once more crossed into the glow of that strange light, finally turning shadowlike once more on the wall, then both it and the light were gone as if a switch had been flicked off.

Still the brothers didn’t move. Sam’s cock was soft inside Dean now but he didn’t want to pull out, he just wanted to hold his brother beneath him. He reached with his hands for the covers and pulled them over himself, knowing that the chills would soon be there, and wrapped himself back round Dean’s body.

“So.” It was Dean who finally broke the silence. “So, that was your deepest desire? Two of me?”

“No.” Sam nuzzled into the back of his neck. “To be loved by just you but all at once. Just to know what it felt like from both points of view at the same time. I know that sounds weird.”

“We’re used to weird” He felt his brother shrug beneath him. “Standard issue for us. But...” Sam tensed at what Dean was going to say. “I’m telling you. I’m not going to be able to sit down for at least a week after that!” He tried to move then, to get from under.

Sam snorted back a laugh, held him tighter, but slipped his body down besides Dean’s on the mattress, rolling his brother so that he could spoon him instead and wrapped one of his long legs around Dean. Dean reached for it with love and held it there over him.

“To be entered and to enter, all at once.” Sam was ecstatic, wanted to talk. “That was amazing. I never want anyone else but you, but that was amazing. All the feelings, all the sensations. Wow.”

He hugged Dean impossibly closer to his chest. “Have you ever been with two men like that? I mean... I know you have with women, but men....?”

“Let’s get some sleep, Sam.”There was an odd tone in Dean’s voice, a warning that Sam would ordinarily have noticed. But he was too excited, too overwhelmed by what had just happened to hear it.

“Come on Dean, talk to me. Tell me” He wriggled his body and pulled at Dean’s until he had turned him enough to look down at his brother’s face in the darkened room. “Have you ever been with two or more men at once?”

Dean stared up at him. “Leave it, Sam.”

This time Sam caught the warning note, but now he needed to know why. He moved suddenly to straddle Dean, catching his hands, pinning him once more against the bed with his own body.

“Dean? Have you been with more than one man at once?” The tone of his own voice meant that this was now a question that was going to be answered that night, no matter what.

Beneath him Dean sighed. Stared straight up into his eyes. Only replied with two words.

“Not willingly.”

And with that, the spell was broken.


	9. Three Nights Later

It was three nights later. Sam looked out of the window of the motel room: he had lost track of how many times he had. Yet again he had spent the day trailing around anywhere and everywhere, looking for Dean.

They had had a _huge_ row that night. Sam had only belatedly realised that he wasn’t being fair, that, just as Dean kept telling him, it was none of his business. But by then the damage had been done. He had demanded to know who? When? And the more he had yelled and pleaded and ranted, the more angry Dean had got. Until he had grabbed up his jacket and stormed out into the night, without the keys for the Impala that were still on the table by his laptop, and vanished.

He had left Sam equally as angry behind him. By dawn he was guilty and distraught, And really, really worried. Dean’s phone was turned off. Or knowing his brother, smashed to pieces in a gutter somewhere. And that thought immediately forced him to face something that he didn’t want to admit: if he hadn’t known his own brother was bisexual, what else didn’t he know about him? The solid dependable rock that he always thought of Dean as being had lately begun to crack and flake away, leaving a whole new strata of unknown beneath.

No. Sam _knew_ Dean. He knew that he had been trying not to drink so much for Sam’s sake. He knew that the first thing he’d do is go and get _extremely_ drunk. So drunk he’d be spoiling for a fight with anyone unwise enough to cross his path. So drunk he’d be incapable of thinking sensibly, which meant he would and could do anything. And more than a little part of Sam was afraid that he’d go off with a woman, or even worse in Sam’s mind now, a man, and simply never come back.

He had already checked the nearest hospitals. He’d even put on his suit, gone to the local police stations and blagged his way into the cells. No sign. Not a hint.

It wasn’t his business. He kept telling himself it wasn’t his business. If Dean wanted it kept in the past then was up to him. If he’d been raped and didn’t want to talk about it, then that was his choice. And if he’d been raped by more than one man, been held down and raped by at least two, was laughed at and jeered by a group of men as he screamed in pain and shouted for help, had had God knows what else done to him and no one had helped him.... if  _Sam_ hadn’t been there to help him. No, fuck it, Sam couldn’t leave this alone as his imagination ran wild. He had to know. Why hadn’t he been there to help when Dean had obviously really, really needed him?

Was it when he was at Stanford? Had he abandoned his brother to danger from more human monsters than they usually hunted? Or was it before? When Dean used to disappear in the evenings when he was a kid, after he thought Sammy had gone to sleep but he never really had: he just used to lie and listen while his brother went out, to steal, or scrounge food, or......where did you go those nights, Dean? Where did you go? Sam had to know. He _had_ to know. Had his brother put himself in danger one night while trying to find enough money to keep them both alive and just never told him? How badly had he been hurt? How had he hidden it?

Or had it just been just bad luck? A random one-night stand with a handsome stranger that had all gone horrifically wrong? A night that had ended badly and Dean had never seen the need or had the want to tell him? Or Sam just hadn’t been around to tell as he had been having a ‘normal’ life somewhere when God knows what had been done to his brother?

Whatever it was, Sam had to know. He couldn’t bear thinking that he had let Dean down again. He knew he couldn’t let it go. But for now the most important thing was finding his big brother and bringing him back safe no matter what condition he was probably in.

It was no use, he couldn’t just sit here and wait yet another night. Again he tried Dean’s cellphone. Again it was switched off or broken. He thought about trying Bobby again: he’d called to say they’d had an argument (but obviously not about what) and that Dean had gone, and Bobby had promised to call if he had heard anything, so perhaps he wouldn’t call him again in case the older man asked any awkward questions.

Eventually he just grabbed the keys to the car and went out to drive around again. He knew the routes to the local bars; he had even mapped them in the nearest towns. He tried not to think about buses and how far Dean could have got if he’d really wanted to. Sam just hoped that the call of strong liquor would have lured his brother before anything else.

He cruised around the local bars, checking each and every one for any sign of Dean. Then he chose a direction at random and drove to the nearest town that way to repeat his tour of all the bar-rooms and dives he could think of.

Then on to the next town he had mapped.

And the next.

By this time it was past four in the morning and Sam was exhausted. And more than angry. He checked down alleys behind bars, went in them all and gave a description, looked behind dumpsters, searched anywhere that a drunk, out-of-control Dean could be.

He was intensely irritated when in the end he proved himself to be right.

Dawn was breaking when he noticed the booted foot hidden behind trash cans in a filthy, stinking, rat-infested alley. Panic set in as he approached with his flashlight, then flared into a rush of pure anger as he realised Dean was alive. He had obviously drunk himself into oblivion. He was covered with his own vomit, there was blood all over his face and hands. And, Sam noticed with alarm even despite his rage, there was blood on his shirt as well. He hurriedly checked closer: there were deep bruises covering his brother’s chest and stomach, and he knew he had taken a beating. A bad beating. He’d probably deserved it, Sam thought viciously.

He checked Dean’s breathing, it was steady but rasping. Sam wondered if that just meant broken ribs, or worse? “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

He didn’t try to wake Dean, he just pulled at him roughly to get the dead weight of his body up enough to be able to sling him over his shoulder: what the hell had he been doing? It was only as he struggled to his feet under the weight of his brother, and the first rays of the morning sun lit the alleyway enough that he saw the two other bodies that lay further in. Sam could see the glint of a blade still in one’s hand. Oh god, what had happened?

Quickly he returned to the Impala and dumped Dean unceremoniously onto the rear seat. Whatever had taken place in that alleyway, his first thought was not to be there any longer that he had to be. He muttered angrily to himself all the way back to the motel, pulled the car up as close as he dared get to the motel room door, opened it ready to stagger out of the Impala with his dead beat brother and dumped him as carefully as he could in the empty bath tub. He might have been worried about Dean’s condition, but he was still annoyed enough at him that he didn’t care too much when his head banged hard against the cold, porcelain surface. Then he parked the car properly and locked it, and returned to see to his brother.

“God damn it Dean, look at the state of you!”

With extreme distaste he began to strip off his brother’s soiled, in many unthinkable disgusting ways, clothing. It would all have to be destroyed. No way was he going to try and clean any of it. Well, perhaps the leather jacket might be salvageable, but nothing else. But as he got closer to Dean’s skin where he could clearly see the bruises, boot-sized bruises, and thought he could make out a slight misshapen dent in his upper chest where the ribs weren’t quite aligned correctly any more, and see some new and very angry slashes in his torso and arms that luckily hadn’t got deep enough or had been deflected by the heavy leather before getting near anywhere majorly serious, then the more concerned Sam got.

Again he checked his brother’s pulse. It was there, as was his breathing, but on lifting his eyelids, Sam could see he was completely out of it and would be for some time. Sam’s anger had fully dissipated by this time. Methodically he began to carefully clean and attend to his brother’s battered body with disinfectant and bandages, and in the case of the two deepest cuts, with a few stitches. Dean didn’t even flinch at any of it.

He was more careful as he lifted him naked out of the bath tub and placed him gently on one of the beds, turning him carefully on his side in case he vomited again, and wrapped him in blankets. As an afterthought he handcuffed his right wrist to the headrest. It wouldn’t stop his brother for long, but it would slow him down.

Then despite all of his anger and frustration and worry at Dean’s bloody fucking stupid stubbornness, Sam lay down behind him on the bed and wrapped his arms around him, pulling his own chest tight to his brother’s back, careful not to pull against his ribs. At least he was safe. Here where he belonged. Sam rested his forehead against the back of Dean’s head and let himself sleep soundly for the first time in over three days.

Dean didn’t wake up properly for another day and night. By that time Sam had only got even more anxious: perhaps he should have taken him straight to the hospital? But also by this time he had watched the regional news on the small TV set and seen the appeal for a hero who had saved two young local girls from being assaulted by a known gang of bikers just two nights before, in the town where he had found Dean. The girls had escaped unscathed: the fate of the lone hero and the gang was unknown, although two motorbikes had been found abandoned outside a bar with no sign of their owners, the rest of the bikers seemingly having fled to cause trouble elsewhere.

Then later that day he had seen the story break that the two missing men had been found dead in an alleyway that looked suspiciously familiar. Unfortunately the neighbouring bar had had no CCTV set up to view that area, which Sam was _very_ grateful for. Police were still appealing for the hero to come forward, and local people had put up a reward to show their gratitude.

Sam breathed a sigh of consternation. He had no doubt that there had been more casualties than just the two mentioned amongst the bikers, they would definitely have come off worst, but how could Dean have been so stupid? Not only to take them on alone without Sam to back him up, but more because the police wouldn’t be looking for him as a hero. No, they’d be wanting to arrest him for double manslaughter at the very least. He could only be thankful that the girls either hadn’t got a clear look at their rescuer, or that they had had enough sense not to tell.

For the third time, he checked, tended to and redressed the wounds: they seemed to be healing well enough. And Dean was definitely breathing easier. Not for the first time, he wished that Cas had still been around. He knew he would have come immediately if he’d known that Dean was hurt and could have healed him completely within seconds. But then, even if that were possible, it wouldn’t have healed whatever it was that set Dean off drinking so blindly and so out of control. He knew he was to blame for that. He knew he had to let it go, to stop asking and to just wait for Dean to decide if he would ever tell him. However unlikely that was.

By this time he was desperately hungry himself, but reluctant to leave his brother alone. In the end he risked a dash to the nearest store where he grabbed ready-made sandwiches in packs and potato chips and sodas, as many of each as he could carry. Then he hurried back.

To his relief Dean was still there, although he had finally managed to move himself on his front in his sleep which meant his handcuffed hand was caught and twisted awkwardly above his head. Sam considered for a moment, then went and got some rope from the car to tie his brother’s other wrist and legs to the bed before releasing the welt-inducing cuff: he knew from bitter experience just how deceptively tricky Dean could be. But this time at least, he really did just seem to be sound asleep.

All that Sam could really do was wait for him to wake up. He ate some of the food himself, worked on his laptop a while, then as the night drew in again, he returned to the bed beside his brother and pulled him into his arms again. He really wished he could lay his head on Dean’s chest to be comforted by the steady thud of his heartbeat, but he didn’t want to cause him any extra pain. All he could do was hold him tight and whisper into his ear what a fucking idiot he was and how much he loved him.

He was unprepared for the wave of relief that washed over him when Dean finally opened his eyes in the early morning and groaned loudly, then winced at the noise of his groan.

“Oh god, my head.”

He shakily tried to sit up.

“Just stay there.” Sam kissed him despite himself. Dean’s eyes were bloodshot, his breath stunk like hell and he looked like shit, but he was alive. “I’m sorry. Please never do that again. Please not ever.”

Dean grunted, lay back down and shut his eyes to stop the room from spinning.

“S’okay Sammy,” he slurred, “Please just let it go.”

“I will, I will Dean. I won’t ask again.”

He quickly released all the bonds holding his brother to the bed, peppered his face with kisses and settled back down with him. And, for that moment at least, he meant it.

It took Dean a couple of days to be able to get out of the bed on his own without needing Sam’s support to get to the bathroom or having to walk his way around the wall to the door. The leg that had only fairly recently mended after being broken by the leviathan was causing him a lot of pain once more: Sam hoped it wasn’t broken or cracked again but there was no way he was going to be able to get his brother to the hospital now he was awake, and he simply hadn’t thought of it before. He had only been worried about the more obvious cuts, slashes and many, many bruises.

Dean had run his hand over his own ribs and grunted as he felt what he declared was nothing, which meant Sam immediately knew they were broken or at the very least fractured. He also declared that he could remember nothing about what had happened during the three days that he had been missing, but when were they leaving as he was ‘fed up with this room’?

He had sat up in bed and demolished the entirety of pre-packed sandwiches and potato chips that Sam had bought: his brother didn’t like to ask when he had last eaten but he suspected that, quite simply, he hadn’t. He had complained about the welts from being tied up: didn’t Sam trust him? He had grumbled about his injuries and being out of action. He had complained about his destroyed clothing, all of which was mysteriously his ‘favourite’, although he had changed his mind when Sam had got fed up and threw the black garbage bag that he had bundled it all up in onto the bed.

Dean took one whiff: “Burn it!”

Sam just kept trying to remind himself that if Dean hadn’t been complaining then he would have cause to be _really_ worried!

But he was glad when Dean could finally stand enough on his leg to hobble in and out of the shower and get himself dressed without needing assistance. Immediately he wanted to leave.

“Where are we going?” Sam asked.

“Anywhere.” was the only response.

And Sam couldn’t help but agree.

So he packed their few belongings up, bundled Dean into the passenger seat of the Impala despite his protests, and moved on. To another small town. To yet another motel. And Sam tried not to ask.

They picked up the trail of a vampire. Sam set Dean doing research on a local blood-sucking myth on the laptop and went ‘to get some food’. As he dispatched the creature he found himself idly wondering which of the two, this monster or the angry brother that he was definitely going to be facing when he returned, was really the most dangerous or most likely to kill him.

He was far more wary when an old acquaintance recommended them to deal with a ‘demonic’ ten year old girl. He knew Dean wasn’t going to be easy to give the slip to this time, but Sam was worried that he still wasn’t up to full strength. He wasn’t missing the grimaces Dean was giving if he tried to get up too quickly on his leg. The irony of the situation, that he now felt what it was like to worry about Dean from the moment he woke up every day to the moment he fell asleep, almost like a protective big brother sort of thing, wasn’t lost on him.

It had turned out during their investigations that the possession seemed to be by an unknown but angry previous inhabitant of the nineteenth century house who had objected to the daughter of the new owners finding her hidden-under-the- floorboards gold locket wrapped in an old lace handkerchief, and _not_ by a demon. They convinced the parents to let them try a private exorcism that evening where they would also destroy the haunted items.

Despite Sam’s best efforts, which consisted of handcuffing his brother in the bathroom of the motel they were in and barricading the door shut, he was still irritatingly grateful when Dean got free and arrived in a stolen car at the house just in time to continue reciting the exorcism that Sam had been rudely interrupted from completing, via the simple but effective means of having his head held beneath the water in a fish tank by an unseen force.

Dean knew the words from memory. He was unfazed by chairs and a table, and a huge, flatscreen TV set whizzing by his head. Suddenly the hold on Sam’s head was released and he surfaced with a long series of gasps in time to see the ten year old fall to the ground hysterically and the materialised spirit, a little girl, throw itself bodily at his brother who staggered back with the force but didn’t fall. She seemed to say something into his face and Dean seemed to nod in response, then he was igniting the small scrap of laced material with his lighter and smashing the locket beneath his boot, and she was bursting into flames still in his arms and vanished as abruptly as she had appeared. It was over.

Sam sat on the floor and spluttered for a long moment, aware of his brother watching him ominously. “Dean. I....”

His brother ignored him and addressed the stunned parents instead. “Do you want to take her out of here while we clear up?”

They just stood and gawped at him, the shocked family: father, mother, young girl. Eventually the mother found her voice: “I didn’t expect her to be so young, she was just a child....Who was she?”

Dean nodded. “Kelly Mae Johnson. She was six when she fell down the stairs. It was her momma's locket, the only thing she had left of her.”

“How do you....?”

“Found her name when we were at the library.”

Sam frowned: why hadn't Dean mentioned that before? But the family were tearfully taking the chance to leave the smashed room, the father carefully carrying his now exhausted daughter in his arms and the mother gabbling her thanks gratefully at both the brothers.

Only when he had heard the front door close behind them did Dean move across to him with just the barest wince of a limp. He looked down at him for a minute then deliberately knelt on Sam’s hand and arm, effectively holding him down on the floor. He considered carefully what he was going to say as Sam waited nervously.

“Dean?”

“Sammy. If you ever. Ever. Try to dump me again to do something so stupid on your own again, then I swear to God I will break both your legs, do you understand?”

Despite himself Sam smiled. Not that he didn’t believe Dean: on the contrary he fully appreciated the sincere promise of violence behind those words. But he was also genuinely glad to see his brother in that house without any further harm coming to him. Perhaps he was capable of taking care of himself again.

“May I have my hand back?”

“It depends how you’re going to behave.”

“I’m going to be very bad.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Bad?”

Sam smirked up at him. “I’ve been too careful of my fragile brother recently. I’m going to stop doing that from this moment, and instead I’m going to pin him to the floor right now and fuck him because I’ve missed doing that so much while he’s been unwell.”

Dean frowned. “This floor?”

“This floor.”

“With the fish watching?”

Sam sniggered. “Yep. With all of them watching!”

Dean considered for a long moment. “The fucking part sounds good. I’ve missed it too. But.”

“But?”

Dean sighed. “This floor is really hard and I’m going to need you to help me up off it in a minute.” He admitted reluctantly. Sam grinned. “Besides, they might well want to come back in, it is _their_ house, after all! We might not be so popular if we were.... well, if they suddenly returned. Can we move it to the motel and a bed instead?”

This time Sam considered. “How about moving it to the Impala?”

“My Baby? Don’t you even think about corrupting her!”

Sam was genuinely astounded. “How many girls have you had in her?" And how many boys? he wanted to add, but decided against it so as not to spoil the good mood.

Dean grunted but didn’t answer. Instead he pulled his weight back enough to release Sam’s hand and began to try and get up. He couldn’t contain the wince this time as his leg wouldn’t go beneath him as it naturally should. Sam hurried to help him up, covering his concern by catching his brother’s face in one of his hands and moving in for a deep kiss as his body shifted enough to take some of Dean’s weight onto his own legs.

“Thanks.”

He stood and waited while Sam gathered up all the equipment that was now scattered all around the main room of the house and replaced it in his bag. Joking aside, it was time to leave and let the relieved if not traumatised family outside, back into their home. Besides, whether Dean had been serious or not, Sam damn well had. Which meant he was now on a promise that he was going to ensure was kept.

Handing Dean the now refilled bag, Sam took a final look around and they left the house together. Sam unlocked the car and opened the rear door for his brother to get in. Dean looked askance at him.

“Get in.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t kidding, Dean. Get in!”

He was grateful to see an amused flash in his brother’s green eyes as he obeyed and carefully got in the rear seat, gingerly stretching his right leg out along the seat. Sam stored the bags in the trunk, grabbed a blanket out to throw into the front seats and went to speak to the family before returning to the driver’s seat.

It didn’t take that long for him to reach his intended destination: he had noticed the darkened deserted patch of wasteland on the way over earlier. Now he parked up, picked up the blanket and joined Dean in the back seat of the car, locking the doors securely behind him. Carefully he climbed on top of his brother, all too aware of the injuries he still carried but wouldn’t admit, and began to kiss his lips tenderly.

He felt Dean relax beneath him and pull his body tighter onto his own. It seemed they had both missed this intimacy the last few days. Sam carefully slid his brother’s body down until he was lying on his back along the seat, his leg stuck up against the rear door at an angle that Sam was wincing at and worrying over, although Dean didn’t seem to care too much as his hands were already in Sam’s pants and reaching for his cock.

Sam pushed them off. “Dean, let me suck you.” He slipped off the seat and knelt in the foot-well, opening his brother’s zip and beginning to mouth the bulge beneath. “Oh God, I’ve missed you. Don’t ever leave me like that again, Dean. Not ever. Please.”

He felt Dean’s hands in his hair. “Get me out.”

Quickly he pulled at his brother’s boxers to release his erect cock and without any hesitation began to suck and lick it.

Dean’s breath hitched in his throat and he tried not to thrust. “I’ve missed you too, Sammy.”

That was music to Sam’s ears. He began to get his hand on his own cock to bring them off together, but Dean stopped him. “I’m doing you after.”

Sam wasn’t sure how, but he obeyed and just concentrated on pleasuring Dean. It didn’t take too long as he had been so ready. All too soon Sam heard the groan that gave the warning and he immediately opened his entire mouth around his brother and took as much of his cock in as he could. He wished he could take it all for Dean instead of just a few inches. He so wanted to give him the same pleasure as Dean knew how to do for him. Somehow he could hold Sam’s full length in his mouth and down his throat without gagging, and when he ‘hummed’ while doing it, it just drove Sam completely out of control!

Sam tried his best to repeat what he had been learning from his expert brother. It must have been fairly pleasurable as Dean came into his mouth, though he tried to pull out fairly quickly before Sam choked. Sam spat it into a small cloth that he had ready and wiped the rest of the cum up where it had splattered.

Dean took a few minutes for his breathing to calm. ”Your turn.”

“Dean, you can’t kneel down here. I’ll wait for the motel.”

“I’m not kneeling. You are”

He reached for his brother and suddenly Sam was being manhandled up onto his body to straddle Dean’s chest on the seat. And Dean was sliding himself along it further until Sam’s crotch was over his face and Dean was undoing his pants and pulling his undershorts aside.

“Dean! You’re going to hurt your leg!”

Dean had moved as far across the seat as he could so his ass was now almost pressed against the door, with his leg all but doubled back against his own chest and held into the air causing his foot to be bent and braced awkwardly against the roof of the Impala, but he wasn’t bothered.

“I’m more worried about your back!”

The raw dirtyness in his brother’s voice caused Sam’s cock to knock up and down as Dean released it. He raised his head off the rear seat and immediately took it straight into his hot mouth, completely sealing around it with his lips.

Sam gasped and felt his back arch as he was pulled forward and down as Dean settled back down on the seat. He had to brace his hands against the rear door and window, but the only thing that his brain could focus on was the intensity of sensations around his cock.

He could feel himself against the back of Dean’s throat, and then, like the most incredible sword swallower’s trick, Dean raised himself once more, tipped his head back to get the correct angle, opened his throat fully and Sam’s cock just descended straight into it all the way, right up until his balls were squashed against his brother’s face.

“Oh God, Dean!”

He had never heard himself moan like that. His back was bent backwards almost at right angles to get himself into Dean that deep and he didn’t care. It could hurt later. Nothing mattered at that moment but that warmth and that feeling all focused around his cock.

“Oh my God, Dean. How are you doing this?”

He felt rather than heard his brother chuckle. Oh fuck, just that ripple through his throat could make Sam come there and then. But then Dean was pushing his body up and away from him with his hands, then pulling him down again, down into that complete heaven of his mouth. Sam quickly got the message. He thought he’d got the basic idea behind face fucking, but this.....oh god, this was something that he had never dreamt of.

He began to thrust. To be fair, his body began to thrust as his brain was just in a melted puddle of bliss somewhere in his head. The apocalypse could have come and gone again at that moment but all he would have been aware of was those minutes in the rear of that car where he fucked his brother’s mouth as hard as he could, completely out of control, until his limbs were shaking with the effort of holding himself in that position and he didn’t care. He never wanted this to end. He could have happily died right then and taken this moment to Heaven as one of his most wanted to be repeated memories. Possibly the most wanted one. Nothing could be better than this.

And then Dean started to hum in his throat and oh god, it was better, it really was! Sam began to lose his vision as the vibrations reverberated around his cock and his whole body shook in response. It was going to be a _huge_ climax, he couldn’t do anything about it except ride it out just like he was doing with Dean’s face. The intensity of sensations around him, the sheer incredulity of being so deep within his brother from this end, Sam could feel himself crying he was just so overwhelmed. A little boy being taught by a master, an absolute _master_ at this.

He came so hard, and with such a roar that he hurt his own throat. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t have if Dean had asked him to. All he could do was stay in that awkward position that he didn’t care two hoots about, while his cock throbbed and pulsed and emptied completely into his brother. He was so shaken even a few minutes after by the intensity of it that Dean had no choice in the end but to physically push him off his face, Sam’s softening cock catching him at the very last second and making him choke only as it pulled clear of his mouth.

Sam wasn’t even aware of it. He just knelt astride Dean’s head, trying to get his breath back and trying to control his trembling limbs. He became dimly aware of his back arched painfully. So what? Finally he was able to look down at his brother who was smirking up at him and just licking lazily at any last drops of cum dripping from his younger brother’s wilted cock.

Finally Sam had recovered enough to speak. “Fuck Dean! Where did you learn to do that?”

His own throat felt raw and sore. What the hell would his brother’s be like?

But Dean seemed unworried: in fact he had such a twinkling, vivid, _vivid_ -green-eyed grin on his face that Sam knew he had really enjoyed it. “Practice, little bro’. Practice! Come down here.”

Sam obeyed, still shaking in every one of his long limbs, pulling his shorts and pants back into place as he carefully slid down along his brother’s body to lie awkwardly on top of him with his legs also at strange angles, with his chest on Dean’s chest and their mouths melded together. Without looking Sam grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around them.

They didn’t part lips for a long time. Then Sam really had to breathe. He laid his head against his brother’s. “You got any more tricks like that?”

“Why?” Dean was annoyingly innocent. “Did you like that?”

“Oh fuck yes.” It was all Sam could rasp. Dean was more than a master of sex, he was a fucking bloody _God_ of it! And Sam was going to worship him every chance he got.

Dean chuckled filthily. “Then that’s alright then.”

And somehow that meant more to Sam than anything.


	10. The Nightmare

They had returned for the night from the latest hunt, glad to be out of that cramped stolen little car, (Sam had begged, pleaded, argued and eventually _demanded_ that Dean put the Impala back into storage as it was just too conspicuous for them to be safe from the leviathans). Dean had idly switched on the small television set while Sam was in the bathroom. Switching idly through the numerous channels, he gave up and just left it playing on the local news service while he went through the nightly routine of salting the windows and door. Sam had already changed into his sleeping sweat pants and not much else by this time and was just sitting watching the screen without taking much of it in.

“Which bed are we in tonight?”

Dean grunted good-naturedly at his brother’s hopeful grin. “Don’t you ever just want some sleep?”

“Never going to happen.” Sam told him, twisting suggestively in the chair to stretch his long body out to its fullest and holding the pose for Dean to admire. “Why do we always get two beds anyway?”

The question caught his brother by surprise. He took a long moment to consider, then conceded.

“Force of habit, I suppose. Next one, I’ll try to remember to ask for a double bed.”

“Only if you’re sure.” Sam knew that would be a bigger step forward for Dean to take than he would admit to. “I’m happy squashed into one with you if you are.”

“Hmm.”

“Or even better, squashed _under_ you.”

Dean’s eyes glinted at him as he also grabbed his toiletries and went to use the bathroom. The motel room wasn’t the best and the door didn’t quite fit the frame as it should, it swung ajar a little, enough that Sam could hear the water running and the sink filling. He got up and slipped across to stand outside.

“If you’d prefer a shower rather than just a wash, I’m happy to come and scrub your back.”

Dean appeared in the doorway, his shirt already off, he was using a moist flannel to wipe the worst of the highway’s dust and grime from his neck and face.

“No, you’re good. I’m finding I need a shower every morning now for some reason anyway!”

Sam stepped into the small room to take the flannel from him.

“What reason would that be?” he queried as he started to gently rub Dean’s bare chest with it.

He smirked as the green eyes twinkled with anticipation. “For the reason that I keep finding myself to be all sticky when I wake up: I don’t know what it could be.”

Sam sniggered and turned him physically so he could wipe around his neck for him as well. Stepping closer, he curled his left hand round to Dean’s front and ran it down his warm skin to wrap around his waist, while pulling his brother’s back closer to his own naked chest.

“We could get all sticky in here first then go to bed, if that’s easier.”

Dean gave an exaggerated sigh and turned in his arms to look up at him.

“Are you telling me that you would prefer this grubby bathroom floor to that albeit extremely small bed in there?”

Sam took the chance to plunge his tongue into his brother’s mouth. “I’m saying, I don’t care where we are as long as I get inside you.” To emphasise his urgency, he rubbed his sweatpants against Dean’s lower chest and groin so his brother could feel his erect and impatiently waiting cock. “So hurry up or I’ll take you wherever. It’s _your_ back!”

He began to push Dean backwards against the sink and fumbled for his jeaned thighs, intending to lift his brother up onto the small vanity unit and make him wrap his legs around his own waist. Idly he wondered if the porcelain and cheap wood could take the strain if he fucked Dean against it or if it would just collapse and smash into pieces beneath them. Dean was obviously thinking along the same lines of thought as he hastily struggled out of Sam’s grasp.

“Just let me brush my teeth and I’ll be there.”

“You sure?” Sam wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

“I don’t want splinters in my ass! Now go and warm the bed up!”

Sam chuckled and stepped slightly reluctantly back into the main room. The television was still reviewing the newsworthy local events.

“And finally tonight, we send our regards to one of our oldest residents: Miss Bathsheba Susie who has reached the ripe old age of one hundred years old today. Now to what would you say you owe your longevity, Miss Susie?”

Sam started as a crash came from behind him. He hurried back into the bathroom to find Dean leaning with both hands against the sink, the glass of water he had been about to gargle with smashed on the manky floor. He had gone pale. He looked like he was going to be sick.

“You okay? Dean! You okay?” Sam had his arms around him again, but out of worry this time. “Dean?”

He was shaken off suddenly.

“Yeah, sorry. Must have slipped from my hand. I’ll clean it up.”

Sam didn’t understand: what could have just happened to cause such a transformation in his brother’s mood? Then he realised that even as Dean bent down to gather the pieces of broken glass he seemed to be listening intently to something. The television?

Sam listened as well. “And if we all follow Miss Susie’s advice then we should live to a ripe old age. Congratulations once again, Miss Susie!”

Was it his imagination or did Dean’s complexion get even paler?

“Does that mean something to you?”

“What?”

“That old lady? Do you know her?”

“What? No. No, it was just….something that reminded me of somebody I used to know, that’s all.”

“What?”

“It don’t matter. It’s not important. I’ll be there in a moment.”

The colour was returning to his face, but Sam wasn’t fooled. Especially when Dean fumbled a large piece of glass and cut his finger deeply. He didn’t even seem to notice until Sam grabbed the flannel and wrapped it around to stop the blood. Which was when he realised how badly Dean was suddenly trembling, he was really shaking.

“What is it? Tell me!”

“Just don’t feel too good all of a sudden. You mind if we just sleep?”

“Of course not.”

He let Dean past and quickly finished clearing the bathroom floor of the final pieces of glass as the last thing he wanted was for either of them to step on any of it in the night, and went to turn the television off. Then he returned to his brother who had stripped to just his boxers to sleep in, and carefully wrapped himself around him beneath the rough blankets. He wanted desperately to ask what had just happened but forced himself not to. Not this time. Let it go, Sam, he told himself. Let him talk to you if he wants to.

But he couldn’t help wondering.

They lay in silence for a long time. Sam couldn’t sleep, and he knew Dean wasn’t either: he could feel how tense he had become ever since that newscast. Finally he couldn’t stop himself.

“Who is she?”

He felt Dean start in his arms at his voice suddenly broke the silence.

“What?”

“Miss Susie? It was the name, not the broadcast. The name meant something to you. Who is she?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do. You just stiffened again when I said her name. Who is she?”

“Nobody. Forget it.”

“I want to know, Dean.”

“I said forget it!”

“No, Dean!”

“For fuck’s sake! You want to know everything! If we were normal partners starting out, you wouldn’t know _anything_ about me! Why do we have to do this every time?” And with that he was pushing Sam away from him, and getting up and crossing in a rage to sleep in the other bed.

Sam lay and tried to calm himself down before he also lost his temper. Then he was also out of the bed and approaching his brother. With one quick movement he had tugged away the covers and climbed on top of Dean, pushing his legs apart with his own and deliberately using both his own shins to hold his brother’s inner thighs apart and down, while at the same time catching and holding his brother’s hands either side of his head in a pin movement using the full weight and strength of his shoulders, arm and chest. Then he sighed as he felt Dean’s sharp intake of breath and recognised it for what it was.

He had irreversibly changed their dynamics just that three or four months ago. He always thought of Dean as being the physically stronger of the two of them: certainly he had seldom ever beaten Dean in a full-on fist fight, the most obvious exception being when he had been juiced up on demon juice. And possibly Dean had always expected to be the stronger.

Until Sam had proved that if he could get Dean down somehow, then he could hold him down with his greater weight, length, reach and probably unfairly, his pointy knees and bony shins that caused great pain when pressed down against tender areas of his brother’s body. And to his eternal shame, he had used that advantage to assault Dean. And now, despite all the assurances that he kept trying to give to his brother that that would _never_ happen again, and despite all the times that Dean declared he believed him, he recognised the sharp intake of breath as being one of fear.

“Dean. I will never hurt you like that again. I swear that to you. I never will.”

His brother remained silent and just looked up at him.

“It’s just.” Sam tried to explain. “You are and will always be my big brother. I love you more than I will ever love anyone else and I always will. So if someone has hurt you or upset you, then I want to hurt them back. And I’m sorry if you think I’m interfering. But I can see you’re upset at the mention of this woman, and I want to protect you. I _always_ will.”

Dean still didn’t respond, but Sam dared to move. First of all was his legs: he knew it would have been hurting his brother the way he had his legs physically pressed down beneath his on the mattress, so he carefully moved his together and slid down so he was lying full length between Dean’s legs instead. This movement also meant that he removed his weight from where he had been pinning Dean’s arms down. He was relieved to feel Dean relax a little beneath him and move his own legs a little to ease them.

“But if you don’t want me to know, then I’ll try to not ask. But if you want to talk to me, then I will always be ready to listen. And.” He raised himself enough to move in for a deep kiss. “You just referred to us as partners!”

Dean ignored his tongue against his lips for a few moments, but then couldn’t resist and parted them to allow Sam access. Sam took the chance to claim him passionately, glad that the fight was over.

“Is your hand alright?” He asked without parting their lips.

“Yeah, it’s nothing.”

“Wrap your legs around mine.”

Dean pulled his mouth away momentarily, saw the mischievous smirk in Sam’s eyes and sighed loudly. But he obeyed and wrapped the lower halves of his bare legs around Sam’s so that their calves were touching. Sam moaned just at that small contact and immediately wanted more. It wasn’t enough that his naked chest was against Dean’s as well, he wanted all of him just as he always had, did and always would.

Releasing Dean’s hands completely, he grappled to pull his own sweatpants and Dean’s boxers down. As usual he was achingly hard and Dean quickly responded when Sam gave an indecent roll of his belly and hips and rubbed himself against his groin, thrilling to feel his brother’s cock responding to the sweet friction. He managed to move one of his legs to straddle Dean’s muscular thigh, thus ensuring the maximum contact and perfect angle for them both, nearly ripping the thin material of his sweatpants apart and not caring in the slightest.

Dean moaned slightly and accepted Sam’s mouth and tongue back in his own as Sam leant to continue the kiss. He fumbled to catch Dean’s hands in his again, this time spreading them wide away from their bodies, interlocking his long fingers with Dean’s smaller calloused ones. He thrilled as he felt his brother smile beneath his lips at this, having realised from the get-go that this was a ‘Sam’ thing.

Indeed Dean was content to lie beneath Sam and let him control the heat of desire that was rising between their bodies as Sam continued to rub and rut against him. Sam began to increase the pressure and soon he heard Dean’s breath begin to catch and turn into gasps, followed by moans. Sam smirked and pressed that bit harder, for that moment longer, at just that slightly slower speed, repeated it and kept on doing so until Dean cried out, arched his back and came between their bodies.

The sudden warmth and slick was enough for Sam to follow. He kept going with his thrusts to ensure Dean was fully satisfied as their combined climaxes trickled over their groins and stomachs. Only once he was sure Dean was done did Sam still his hips and instead just lay for a few minutes in silence on top of him while they allowed their heart beats to settle into a more normal rhythm.

“We okay?”

“You just did that and you have to ask?”

“I just worry about you. I don’t like to think of anyone hurting you.”

“Forget it. It’s don’t matter. It’s done.”

“Okay. But if you ever want to talk. Or need to…. I’ll always be here.”

Dean grunted. “I need some sleep.”

Sam stirred enough to struggle his way fully out of his sweatpants without moving from his position on top of his brother, and used them to wipe himself and Dean as clean as he could before dropping them over the side of the bed. Dean watched him from beneath half-closed eyelids.

“You’re not going to get off me, are you?”

“Not until I have to.”

Dean sighed and put his arms around him. “Wriggle down.”

Sam did, sliding down Dean’s body enough to rest his head against the top of his brother’s chest, slipping his arms around his waist as he did so. He wished he could get Dean to talk to him: there was something going on. He had never seen his brother react to anything like he had earlier that evening and it was something else that he was desperate to know about him. But the desire to know had to be tempered against the knowledge that if he pushed too much, Dean would probably take off again. And that was by far the worst of the two evils.

So instead he just lay and listened to Dean’s heart as it lulled him to sleep.

It was hours later when he was disturbed by a noise, he wasn’t sure what. Then it was there again and he realised it was from Dean, he was whimpering and shaking on the bed beside him. Sam reached over to put an arm around him, but that didn’t help, in fact it only seemed as if it brought the next part on faster.

Dean winced in his sleep, threw off Sam’s arm with aggression, but then buried his head and neck beneath his arms and hands as if....as if defensively. He was protecting his head, curling himself up into a ball, and whimpering.

Sam sat right up and watched the nightmare unfold in alarm. He could see Dean’s body clench and start and wince as if being struck by numerous blows, punches, kicks. He could hear the cries of pain that Dean was now giving out. He almost expected to see blood pouring from opening wounds, and feel welts rising on his brother’s skin. This was more than a nightmare, he realised. This was a memory, triggered by whatever had made his brother turn pale and look faint earlier that evening. A memory from Hell perhaps.

But even as Sam watched, helpless to do anything, afraid to try and wake Dean in case that turned out to be a wrong move, it started to go through his head that he had seen this before. Seen Dean have this nightmare before. Long ago. Before Hell. _Long_ before his brother’s forty years in Hell. Long before he went to Stanford even.

He could remember as a teenager watching Dean have this nightmare, even remembered once their father sitting quietly beside the bed watching Dean have this nightmare. And it was the same one, he knew, because he was ready for when his brother suddenly turned aggressive in his sleep, punching and swinging and slashing with some weapon that he had grabbed in his head, until he had fought away whatever was attacking him. And then, this time, Sam swung his large body over the bed so his head was right by Dean’s mouth, to hear the whisper that he had never managed to catch before: “Miss Susie?” It was a question, gently asked. And then Dean would settle finally into pure deep dreamless sleep.

Sam had forgotten this. It had only happened for a couple of years then either Dean had managed to send the memory down into wherever he internally stowed all of the bad crap in his life, or Sam had become immune to the nightmare and simply slept through it.

He sighed: he was wide awake now. Part of him wanted to hug his brother to him and help to soothe him, but the other part was wondering – why now? What had brought the nightmare on now? Just those words from the television – Miss Susie? Or was it linked to the other thing that Sam was desperate to know and Dean was equally desperate not to tell? Was it that much of a coincidence that Dean had not had the nightmare for so long, until now?

He climbed out of the bed, covered Dean up with the blankets and moved to find his laptop. What a way to start a search, he thought, ‘Miss Susie’. Whatever will that bring up?

He wasn’t surprised when thousands of Susie’s appeared on the list. Okay then, try ‘Miss Susie’ and ‘rape’. Still quite a list, god there were some sick human beings around, but it was a shorter list than the other at least. And he had nowhere else to start.

Susie Hamber, Susie Trent, Susie Gobeer, sick, sick sick, what some people put on the internet.

What was this one? _Miss Susie Duvrais, only daughter of the infamous Creole witch Dana Duvrais_ , (Sam snorted, yeah right, a witch!), _went missing in 1955 aged just 14. Her remains were not discovered until her family home in Anacoco, Louisiana was raided in 1996_.

Or the next one, _Susie Honourez, disappeared in1980, her body found raped and murdered 4 days later_.

And yet another, a name linked to a series of rapes in Nebraska in 2003. _‘Wanted for information as to the whereabouts of..._ ’

Something was niggling at Sam: Anacoco? He remembered that town. If it could be called a town. He remembered driving through it on the way to Lee Elementary in Leesville – his favourite ever school. Not that he knew it would be his favourite ever school at the time, but it had been simply because of the field trip. Sam closed his eyes as he fondly remembered that trip.

Dad had dropped them off at the motel. “I’ve paid for two weeks, you get your brother and yourself into the school.” This was to Dean, he must have been about fifteen, Sam was ten, nearly eleven. “Here’s some money for food, make it last,” and he drove off.

Sam could vividly remember Dean’s expression as he counted the six ten dollar bills.

“How is that going to last?” he remembered asking.

Remembered Dean sighing and shaking his head. Sam could remember, he had forgotten, but now he could remember that there had been a slight tension between his older brother and his father for some time, and that his father had been leaving them with less and less money every time, not more as would have been expected as they got older and hungrier.

Anyway that had all paled beside the big news. He had gone into his new class, it was a thursday, scared and new, he should have been used to it by then but he never was, and the teacher had been surprised and more than a little worried. Because the entire class, it wasn’t a big school, only a small town one, but the entire class were going on a subsidised field trip that Saturday, for a whole week, to Washington DC no less, and they were going to the museums, and to explore that great city. They were all going, the whole class. In two days.

He could remember how hard he had cried, how much he had wanted to go. And the principal of the school had come and spoken to him and suggested that perhaps, if his father could find one hundred and twenty dollars by the next day to pay for it, they might be able to get in touch with the hotel and the museums, and all the others, and arrange for an extra child to go. If he could get the one hundred and twenty by tomorrow.

Sam kept his eyes closed. He could remember racing out of his school despite shouts, finding Dean’s school, finding his class, hauling him physically out of the room, oh how he must have embarrassed him on his first day there, how Dean had listened, how he had pursed his lips and thought, how he had returned with Sam and spoken to the principal, how he had promised to ‘wire their dad right then and get that money, just get Sam on that trip please Sir’.

He had given Sam the motel key and told him not to worry and to go back to class. He was fifteen.

Sam hadn’t been able to contain himself all day, sick with excitement and sick with worry that it wouldn’t happen. Dean hadn’t been there when he had got back to the motel, didn’t reappear until nearly midnight when Sam was beside himself with worry and just about to call their father himself. But he had produced dollars, lots of them from his pockets, nearly two hundred dollars in all, ‘enough for your trip, and enough for spending money, Sam.’

Now Sam opened his eyes and frowned. He could remember dancing round Dean with excitement then, but when he thought about it now? How the hell had his brother got two hundred dollars in one day? He had assumed even then that Dean had stolen it, and he was ashamed now just how much he had taken that as normal, but still...two hundred dollars? That had been a lot of money, had he done a burglary?

He knew Dean had done that, did do that. Hell, he remembered how angry their dad had been when he got caught for doing that – letting them down by actually getting caught! But that was usually for small things, often just food, or that one year when he stole those Christmas presents for Sam that had turned out to be all girl's toys. But two hundred dollars in loose notes from a burglary? Well, okay, someone might have been saving that, he supposed. But then why would Dean have been so late back? Perhaps it had been a robbery from a store instead? Or....Sam didn’t want to think about how else his brother could have got that money in one day.

But he remembered how tired and in pain Dean had looked. How he had just wanted to shower and go to bed. Sam could remember how he tried to get Dean to eat up the can of macaroni cheese he had left for him, but Dean didn’t even want that. Although that had been nothing new – Sam could never remember Dean eating when they were younger. With their dad yes, but not when it was just them, well sometimes, when they knew they had enough money or food to definitely last them the required time to wait. And he knew Dean ate now, he was always ribbing Dean mercilessly as to how much he ate now! But when he thought about it, he could never remember Dean eating with him when they were on their own in the motels. He had always ‘just eaten’, or would ‘eat later’, although the food never looked like it had been touched to Sam’s watchful young eyes.

Sam blinked. Looking back on his childhood, what there had been of it, no that wasn’t fair because Dean had tried to make it a childhood for him despite their father, but, well - looking back on it now with adult eyes meant suddenly to see it all so differently.

Dean had always found them money, found them, well, Sam, enough food, found enough for what they needed, or what he, Sam, wanted.

That laptop!

Sam could see it now, his first laptop, his pride and joy when he was thirteen and was desperate for one for his schoolwork. It was a good one, possibly even better than their father’s one was. He remembered how irritated his dad had been, how he had looked at Dean “What the hell did you do to get that?”

And Dean had ignored his father, just told him, Sam, not to worry, to concentrate on getting good grades. And Sam could remember that fight between Dean and his dad, memorable for being one of the few they ever had, when John had demanded to sell the laptop, Sam’s laptop , because he needed to buy ‘important things’ like information and ammunition and Dean had stood up to him, got right up in his face and told him he wasn’t to touch that laptop, ever, ‘cos that was Sammy’s property’.

In fact Sam could only ever remember them having two such fights, the other a few years before then, when Dean himself must have been about thirteen and they had come to blows. Well, their father had. He was drunk as usual, and wanted to go and walk it off, and wanted Dean to go with him, and Dean had refused and told him he wasn’t going outside with him anymore, and John had swung his huge fist, just once. Sent Dean right across the room, knocked him out completely, then gone for him with his booted feet.

Sam could never remember John hitting him before: sure he got drunk and yelled, shouted a lot, until Sam cried and Dean would get yelled at for that, but never actually struck at them before. Sam could remember screaming at him to stop. And then he had grabbed up his recently emptied bottle of whisky and hurled it at Dean’s prone body. Luckily it had missed, but instead smashed against the wall beside his head instead. Then John had stormed out and gone awol for two days, leaving Sam in a blubbery, snotty mess hiding beside a chair and his brother a bloody, bruised huddle in the corner.

He had run over to Dean, thought his jaw was broken but it turned out not to have been so. But the left side of his face had blown up to more than double the other, and he was blackened and swollen for weeks.

Dean had been so concussed he could hardly hold his head up straight when he had come round and didn’t get off the floor for ages. Sam didn’t point out to him how he had wet himself, he just helped Dean up when he was finally ready to try and move, and helped him clean and bandage himself up and lie down on the bed with Sam besides him.

That was the first time, Sam realised, that he had wanted more than just a brotherly hug from Dean. He had wanted reassurance, wanted his brother’s broken but strong body to lie alongside his always, to protect him from the life that they were being forced to live, wanted it to be just them, wanted his father never to come back, they were better off without him, wanted to be ‘normal’.

He had tried to console Dean once Dean’s head had cleared enough to listen, told him: “I’ll go with dad next time, you don’t have to.”

He hadn’t understood, didn’t understand even now why Dean had got so angry with him, his little brother. What had Sam said to make Dean suddenly so angry at him?

“Don’t you ever, _ever_ , do that! If he suggests it, you run to me, you hear me, you run to me, Sam, and I’ll, I’ll, kill him if he ever suggests that to you.”

Child Sam had cried and been consoled by his big brother: adult Sam looking back suddenly, for the first time in a very long time, began to wonder what that fight had been about, because he had never known.

Only that John had returned, looked at Dean’s swollen face, the left eye that he was still unable to open two days later, and his battered and stiff body, grunted a ‘sorry’ and nothing more was ever said about it.

Sam swallowed hard and came back to reality. What had that fight been about? How did Dean get that money? Why was he only just asking himself now, after all these years? Why did there seem to be a whole side to Dean that he was only just starting to realise that he didn’t have a clue about? And who was this Miss Susie?

He clicked on the story that had set his mind wandering into memories: _Miss Susie Duvrais, only daughter of the infamous Creole witch Dana Duvrais, went missing in 1955 aged just 14. Her remains were not discovered until her family home in Anacoco, Louisiana was raided in 1996 after an anonymous tip off. Besides her remains were found the remains of 13 missing children, mainly teenage boys, who had been reported missing over the previous three decades. Her three brothers, who had still lived in the family home, and who are presumed responsible for the murders, were never found, although a large recently burnt pile of ash in the front yard produced remains of human fragments, enough to suggest that that could have been them_.

Sam stopped, read the date again. He could have told anyone exactly where he was on that date: standing staring at the Washington memorial and it’s reflection in the water, the enormity of the occasion seared into his brain even now. That trip, that whole trip should have been first on his list of happy memories for Dean to see that time they went to Heaven together, if that fucking angel Zachariah hadn’t manipulated them to try and break his brother’s will. That was one of his happiest times, all because of Dean. And on that date, that _exact_ date, an anonymous tip off had alerted police to a gruesome series of murders, in near enough the exact location where Dean would have been, _should_ have been. And the burnt bodies? How many bodies had he helped his brother burn? How many had his brother burnt without any help?

Sam felt himself begin to sweat, that was just too much of a coincidence. Dean had been there somehow, and given his nightmares, not in a good way. And.... Sam felt sure that the rape was involved here. He felt anger surge through him: three men, they had been three grown men. Against teenage boys. Against his fifteen year old brother. And he had never known, never even suspected. But now he had to know.

He stared across the room at Dean. ‘How did you keep us alive? What did you used to do to keep us alive? What did it cost you?’ he thought. He should have asked before. But he had to know now. He had to know what he should have asked twenty years before.

As Dean stirred finally, Sam crossed to him and knelt beside the bed, reaching to stroke his brother’s face. “You okay? You had a really bad nightmare. I was worried.”

“I’m good.”

There was that lie again. Sam had grown so used to it that the words barely registered any more, but now, for the first time in a long time, he wondered what lay beneath them, what secrets had been kept from him.

He’d always prided himself on being clever, on being knowledgeable. When it now seemed that he hadn’t known squat, and still didn’t about his own big brother. He had to know the truth even though he knew there would be consequences to knowing. And he knew he had to be careful how he did it.


	11. Asking Bobby for Help

“You going to tell me what the hell’s going on?”

Sam winced at Bobby’s tone. He had debated with himself over and over about calling the older man, but he knew he needed help if he was ever going to get the truth from his brother. And although he didn’t want to break Dean’s trust in him, he knew that Bobby would be just as horrified as Sam was if he thought there was any chance at all that Dean had done what his younger brother was starting to be so afraid that he had.

Sam knew though, that his own life would be in jeopardy if Bobby knew the whole story about him and Dean. He would have to play this conversation so carefully. And those first words from Bobby’s lips had all but shattered his carefully rehearsed speech.

“You and Dean. Whatcha fighting about now? There’s something, I know there is.”

“Yes there is, Bobby.” Sam took a deep breath. “And you’re not going to like it. But I really need your help.”

“I’m listening, boy.”

Sam tried to calm himself down and risked a glance at the motel room door. It was early in the morning where they were and he had come outside to stand in the shadows at the end of the row of rooms, watching the door in case Dean came out looking for him when he woke up, but far enough away not to be seen or heard by anyone. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be overheard by anybody.

“Okay, Bobby. I....I mean.... I found out something about Dean. I mean. I think I have, but he won’t tell me. You know what he’s like. But I can’t leave it, I can’t let it go.”

“You going to start making sense soon?”

“Bobby. I...”

“Just spit it out Sam.”

Sam tried to breathe: in, out, in, speak.

“I think. Well, no. I know. I know because he told me. We were having an argument and he told me that he’d been. He told me that he’s been raped, Bobby. But he won’t tell me by who. Or whom. Cos it was more than one, Bobby. A gang-rape. It was a gang-rape, Bobby. But he won’t tell me anymore about it. And I can’t let it go, Bobby, I just can’t....”

There was a long, long silence from the other end of the line. Long enough that Sam started to wonder if they had been disconnected.

“Bobby?”

He heard a sound, a sound like somebody had forgotten to breathe for a very long time, and when they did, it all just hurt too much.

“You’re sure, Sam?” The pain in Bobby’s voice was so strong it felt like a physical thing emerging from the speaker. “He told you this?”

“Yes, Bobby. We were having an argument and, well I said something and it came out. And then he immediately clammed up tighter than....I don’t know what _could_ clam up tighter than Dean. He’s a unique species on his own. But Bobby. He says it’s none of my business and I should forget it. But I can’t Bobby, I can’t and...”

“And?”

“He had a nightmare. I think the argument triggered it. But I remember that nightmare from years ago, Bobby. I remember it as a kid. And I went looking on the internet and I... Well to be honest, I could do with your opinion because perhaps I’m making jigsaws out of plain paper scraps, but. It fits, Bobby. The dates fit. I think it...or something happened when I was on that trip to Washington because the dates _fit_! Do you remember? When I was a kid?”

“I remember that, Sam. You talked about nothing else for months. And your dad was so angry about it. And angry with Dean for letting you go. And angry with him for...”

“Angry with him for what?” He had caught Sam’s attention.

There was another long pause.

“I never really knew, Sam. Just that your dad was real angry about something. _Real_ angry. Said that boy was going to get himself killed and he was damn well going to be going with him from then on, and you were just going to have to manage on your own. But I never knew what it was actually about. Only that Dean hardly spoke to me or him. Or you, although you were making enough noise for three, blethering on about that trip. And John was real angry.”

“I think I know, Bobby.”

This was it. This was the big betrayal of his brother. Sam didn’t want to say it, he didn’t want to even think it, but he had to because he had to know.

“Know what, Sam?”

Bobby’s voice was low and quiet, but Sam knew he was listening intently.

“I...”

“It’s something I’m not going to like, is it?”

“It’s not something _I_ like either, Bobby. That’s why I have to know. I have to.” This last was almost whispered.

“Go on, boy.”

Sam took a deep breath and forced himself to say the words. “I think. Well, Bobby. That trip was subsidised but it was still over one hundred dollars and Dean got it all in one night. More even! Way more, Bobby! He came back with around two hundred in all. In one night! I _know_ he didn’t get it from dad! And I think if he’d robbed somewhere, then he would have told me. I mean, I know he went burgling: for god’s sake how many records has he got in how many counties? I know he went pick-pocketing. He still does, we both do! I know about all that. So if he’d robbed somewhere, he would have told me. He _would_ tell me. But....”

“He hasn’t and he won’t.” Bobby finished his sentence for him. There was another long silence.

“Sam. What exactly are you trying to say?”

“Bobby. I think. I don’t want to think. But I think.” Oh god how hard was this? “I think he may have been selling himself. To get us money. And I think he put himself in serious danger by doing it.”

He heard the sharp intake of breath and waited for a response. Waited a long time.

“Bobby?”

“I’m here, boy.” He could hear the crack in Bobby’s voice as he spoke.

“I don’t know what to do, Bobby. He won’t talk to me and I can’t let it go. He got so angry about me asking that he disappeared for three days and I found him so drunk that I thought that this was the time he was never going to wake up again. I know I should leave it in the past, but…”

“But this isn’t something that can be.”

Sam could have cried at the strength and determination that now could now be heard in the old man’s voice. “No. This isn’t something that can be a secret. Not from _us_. What do you want me to do?”

“I need your support, Bobby. Need someone else to go at him. To stop him from running because he will. He will, believe me. I don’t know how we’ll get him to tell us but I have to know. I have to know who hurt him and when, and…..”

“I get it, son. You bring him here. No. Actually I’ll get him here. I’ll make some excuse, tie him in the basement if we have to. Get him drunk, or angry, or something. But he’ll tell us.” Sam could almost hear his brain whirring down the phone line. “There’s something attacking people in a national park in New Jersey. Could be a werewolf. We’ll all go and see to it all together, then I’ll get him here to Rufus’s cabin. We’ll get it out of him. He can’t keep whatever it is buried inside himself anymore.”

The wave of relief that swept over Sam was almost physical. He had help. Bobby was going to help him.

“Thanks, Bobby.”

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

“You. Er. You said you were having an argument and rape, well the subject came up. What were you arguing about for that to be mentioned?”

“Oh.” Sam hadn’t been expecting that, he knew he sounded as awkward as he felt. “It was something and nothing, Bobby. Nothing to worry about.”

“Mmm.” He could hear the doubt in the voice.

Sam tried to rally himself. “Why?”

“Oh nothing. It was just. Well. When you had lost your soul, and Dean finally found out. Well. You and Dean. I mean, _him_ and Dean. Well there was something wrong. I mean. Dean always seemed nervous around him. He tried to hide it, but I _know_ Dean. Something was wrong. And he, you, _he_ used to watch Dean. All the time. Had that ….cold smile. Always that smile, and you watched him all the time, like a predator. You were _always_ watching him. _Always_. Never took your eyes off him, unless he was looking of course. But the moment Dean turned away, there were your eyes watching him again. Gave me the creeps, it really did. There was something wrong, there was. But. I just. I mean. You can remember what _that_ Sam did, can’t you? You never? I mean, _he_ never…. _hurt_ Dean, did he?”

“Oh Bobby.” Sam felt the shame all over again. “Yes. Yes, he did. And I didn’t know. I buried all my memories of him. Well. Until a couple of months ago. Then I remembered. I couldn’t believe it. I can’t believe it. I. _He_. Forced Dean. Into bed. I forced him into my bed so many times. Oh Bobby, I can’t believe what I did to him.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t blame Dean!” Sam suddenly realised how this was all sounding. “He never. He was so scared of losing me. I mean the _real_ me. He knew that sick bastard wasn’t me. Not that Sam. But he was so worried that I’d never come back. He didn’t dare fight back in case he somehow caused me never to come back. Oh Bobby. He must have felt he was trapped in a nightmare!”

“Oh Sam.”

It was a heartfelt sigh. “And this was what the argument was all about? About that Sam and what he did?”

“Yeah. Mostly.”

“Sam?”

Shit. Bobby was always so fucking quick to pick up on pauses.

“ _You_ haven’t hurt him, have you? _You_ wouldn’t do anything like that, would you? Because _that_ Sam must have got the idea from somewhere?”

“I….”

“Sam? Tell me _you_ don’t have feelings like that for your brother. You don’t, do you, Sam?”

Sam couldn’t stop the tears from beginning to fall. “I. I always have had, Bobby.” He could only just hear his own voice. He hoped with all his heart that Bobby couldn’t hear him at all. “And I’m as bad as that Sam. I am. I caught Dean with another man and….”

“Wait! Dean with a man?”

“A man, Bobby. I didn’t know either. Another thing I didn’t know. I caught Dean with a man and I… I was so angry, Bobby. And so jealous. I raped him, Bobby. Me. No excuse, no soul missing, no possession, no spells. Just me. And you know the worst part, Bobby?”

He paused, waited for the explosion of anger. There was nothing but an ominous silence but he knew Bobby was still there listening.

“The worst bit is that I can’t forgive myself. But _he_ forgave me, just like he always does. He told me that he didn’t count what I did to him as rape, because he knew what rape really was! And then I asked him what he meant. And got angry at him because he wouldn’t tell me who had hurt him. And we argued about it, we _really_ argued about it until he took off. After what _I_ had just done, Bobby! I’m so ashamed of myself. I can’t believe that I could do that. Not to anyone, But especially not to Dean.

But now he wants to leave it. Says it’s all in the past. But I can’t, Bobby. I’ve got to know who hurt him, and when, and how he got that money? Was he going out doing...? Was it for me that he got so badly hurt? I’m sorry, Bobby. Please don’t hate me. Whatever you’re thinking of me, it can’t be any worse than what I think of me. Bobby?”

This time he did wait for the other to speak. He couldn’t say anymore. He just waited for the condemnation that he knew would be coming. Because he knew he deserved it.

“It was only the once, Sam? Not that I’m condoning that. You did a terrible thing. Towards your own brother as well. But. That was it, wasn’t it? You’d never hurt him like that again? Or do anything like that to him, would you, Sam? You’re leaving him alone _now_ , aren’t you?”

How did he know? Not for the first time, Sam thought that Bobby had powers of some sort. But he knew he had to answer.

His voice all but failed him. “I can’t. I love him, Bobby. I offered to leave and he…. It’s complicated.”

“You’re _blackmailing_ him, you son of a bitch!” Sam winced at the ferocity of anger in Bobby’s voice. The only thing he could be grateful for was that this conversation wasn’t taking place face to face, because he knew he’d probably be very seriously hurt by then. And he would have deserved it.

“How _could_ you? Where are all your high morals and your fancy education? Always to _your_ rules, isn’t it, Sam? John always said your brother’s love for you would be the death of him, cos he couldn’t see what a selfish little brat you are and a bully to boot!”

Sam had never heard Bobby so angry, his tears fell harder.

“He was right, wasn’t he? Everything you’ve ever wanted, you’ve either cajoled or harassed Dean into doing or getting for you. And then you’ve just thrown it all back in his face! He’d do anything for you! Goddam went to Hell for you! Wasn’t that enough?

But no. Not for _you_. Are you seriously telling me that he’d come to your bed of his own accord? And how long are you going to stay for _this_ time, Sam? Til you decide you want to be ‘normal’ again? Cos let me tell you about normal, Sam. _Normal_ people don’t rape their own brothers, Sam. Which version of you is the sickest, Sam? Soulless or normal Sam? Cos as far as I can see, there ain’t no frigging difference!”

The line was disconnected suddenly. Sam stood with tears running down his face and felt like he had run a marathon. Because that had all gone wrong. He had been trying to convince himself that it was okay, that what he was asking Dean to do was somehow acceptable, but it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t.

He had never heard Bobby talk to him like that. He had never heard Bobby talk to _anyone_ like that! And worst of all he knew he was right. He was sick. Completely sick in the head. He didn’t need Lucifer’s influence to do such a terrible thing.

He should stop this. Try and go back to what they were. But even as he thought that, he knew he wouldn’t. Because he finally had the only thing that he had ever really wanted. It had taken him a lot of years to realise what that was.

And it was his brother.

Sam really, truly, loved his brother. And Bobby was correct when he called Sam selfish because he couldn’t give him up. And Bobby had been right when he said he was blackmailing Dean into their relationship by playing on his fears about Sam leaving. But what Bobby would never understand, and what Dean was only just starting to realise, was that Sam would always come back just because he simply couldn’t stay away from his brother! Especially not now he had finally taken the step and admitted how he felt.

Yes, his brother may love him far too much, but he was completely addicted to Dean as well! He just wanted to live, breath and be with him every day of the rest of his life.

So sorry, Bobby. Sam wiped his tears away and hoped to try to sneak back into the room and wash his face clean before his brother woke up. He wasn’t going to stop being with Dean despite what the older man had said or thought of him. He wanted to be with him and the only thing that mattered was whether Dean was happy to be with him as well. So Sam was determined that that was what he was going to make sure of. More than determined. It was all that mattered to him. That Dean was okay with this.

Sam was going to support him, protect him, defend him, do whatever it took to keep Dean happy to be with him. Somehow he would manage to make Dean want him as much as he did Dean. And as long as they were both happy with that then it was nobody else’s damn business!


	12. The Worst Thing Ever

They were both sitting in the small cabin that they now called home. They had been for a long time. Neither speaking. Both numb. Bobby was dead.

Bobby was dead.

Dean looked over at Sam. He was just bereft, stunned. He didn’t know what to do or say. What could he say? The last constant in his life apart from his brother was gone. Hell, the _only_ constant in his life aside from Sam, was gone. Bobby was dead.

Sam noticed him looking and returned the gaze with the same expression that Dean felt himself to have. He blinked and looked away. He could feel the tears at the backs of his eyes but he couldn’t let them go.

He felt Sam watching him but he couldn’t force himself to look back at him again. Then Sam had turned away as well, his thoughts and emotions also hidden as he returned his gaze to absolutely nothing.

They sat like that for a long time.

It was Sam who finally managed to move first. He didn’t speak, he just got up from the chair and went to check the main door was locked securely, then approached his desolated brother and held out his hand.

Dean came to enough to slightly shake his head at him. “Sammy. I....”

“No.” Dean looked up at Sam’s firm expression. “Come on, Dean. Come on.”

It wasn’t an order, just a request. Just an ‘I need you because _I_ need you’. Dean stared at nothing for a long few minutes then reached to take Sam’s hand and stood up himself.

Sam led him to the small bedroom that they shared, supposedly in each of the two separate single beds. He pushed Dean to sit on one and began to undress him as calmly and carefully and matter of factly as a parent would do with a tearfully upset and emotionally wrought child. With the exception that Dean was completely naked by the time Sam had drawn back the covers and pushed him bodily to lie on the bed.

As Sam undressed himself as well, it was a good job that neither could see the brand new ghost in the corner of the room, watching them with rising indignation.

“I’m dead and you’re gonna....! Oh, this is _you_ , Sam Winchester! You leave him alone! I can’t watch this!”

But he did. Because he was there and he wasn’t sure how to go, and he was worried he might not be able to get back, and hell, even seeing those two idgits like this was better than not seeing them at all.

By this time Sam was in the bed on top of Dean with the covers over them both, and was beginning to kiss his face. Not his mouth, but everywhere else. Small gentle kisses all over, from Dean’s forehead to his jaw, from his ears to his neck, all accompanied by the words that he was murmuring over and over again between the mouthed caress: “ _I_ know. I know.”

Despite himself, Bobby crept closer so he could watch Dean’s face. The boy was totally bereft, there were tears almost in his eyes, Bobby could see the slight glistening but it was as if Dean wouldn’t let them come. No, he realised, Dean _couldn’t_ let them come. He was too emotionally distraught at the minute to even be able to cry.

If Bobby’s heart had been beating, it would have been broken and stopped all over again at watching Dean’s face. How he loved this boy. Both the boys, despite how angry he had been and still was at Sam. He loved them both. But Dean? Dean was the one that he called ‘son’ and meant it. He would have given anything to be able to console him at that moment.

His anger at Sam flared back as he raised himself up a little to look down at his brother. When Dean didn’t respond for a moment, he gently cupped his cheek and jaw in his hand but said nothing until Dean had come out of his internal daze enough to return the attention.

“May I?”

Dean stared at him blankly then frowned slightly. “Sam. I....”

“It’ll be okay, Dean. Let me. Please. It’ll be okay.”

Dean didn’t understand how anything could ever be okay again, but he trusted Sam so he nodded. Sam moved his upper body enough to reach his hand to the small bedside table and fumbled for the lube that had been carefully hidden beneath everything else. As he found it and withdrew his hand, Bobby stared in disgust.

 “Oh, you’re not gonna? Not here? Not _now_? Jesus, I can’t watch this!”

But he stayed because he wasn’t sure if he could get back if he left. And no matter what, no matter what he had to put up with or see, he didn’t want to be anywhere but close to Dean.

Sam quickly slicked himself beneath the covers and raised Dean’s hips so he could squirt some straight into him. Then he lined up.

Dean came to with a blink. “No prep?”

“I’ll be gentle, Dean. I promise. It’ll be okay.”

He pulled Dean’s legs around his waist beneath the blankets and carefully and slowly entered him, easing in a little at a time. He watched Dean’s face as if it were a brand new and exciting specimen in a laboratory, pausing and waiting on every slight pained gasp of breath, noting every new bead of sweat, kissing his face gently on every micrometer of widening of his eyes. But Dean said nothing. He just let Sam enter him because he trusted him to keep his word.

Only when Sam was fully in, and he was sure that Dean was alright and as comfortable as he could be, did he begin to gently thrust. And it was gentle. Because this wasn’t about rampant sex. This was about Dean. This was the only way that Sam could think of to help him.

As he adjusted his angle he found the spot in Dean that made his brother gasp automatically and caused him to raise his hips because his body wanted to, even though his mind wasn’t really fully in that room and instead was lost in memories of a man that he had loved so, so dearly. And as he found that spot and as Dean’s body reacted, and the pressure began to grow inside him, so Dean began to lose what little control he had left. And, as was the intention, he lost what little control he had or hadn’t over his tears.

Bobby watched in amazement as finally the moisture gathered and shone in Dean’s eyes and spilled over. He wanted to wipe them away for him.

Dean moved to wipe them away himself, but Sam caught his arm and stopped him. “Let them come, Dean. It’s okay to cry. Let them come.”

And Bobby suddenly understood.

This wasn’t about having sex. This was about allowing Dean to show his emotions, and since he probably only did show them during sex, then that was what Sam was letting him do. Nothing irreverential: nothing sacrilegious. Sam knew the best way to help his brother was by doing this, so this is what he was doing.

These two boys did such a hard job: they fought literally for the world, a world that didn’t know they even existed. They were probably the only two people on the planet, besides himself, that understood, Hell! that had _any_ chance of understanding what the life of a Winchester was and what they went through every day. Perhaps it was understandable that they had turned to each other for comfort.

He may not like it, may not agree with it, but it had happened. And strangely it made Bobby suddenly glad. Because he knew that Dean would eventually be okay about him dying. Because he had his brother Sam there to look after him.

Sam swore to himself as he accidentally brought himself to a climax. He hadn’t intended to, all he had been concerned about was getting Dean out of that place in his head where Sam had seen him disappearing to: he had sat watching his brother in the main room and realised that Dean was mentally pulling back and away from him, vanishing into that peculiar place inside himself where all the bad was buried and Dean struggled more and more every time to resurface from.

But he supposed he should have known that his own cock would be uncontrollable once inside his brother’s perfect body. Sam bit the insides of his lips and kept the orgasm as understated as he could, gasping and panting as quietly as he was able to control the moans and attempting to contain the tremors that passed through his own limbs as his heart pounded ecstatically. He laid his head beside his brother’s on the pillow and nuzzled into his neck as he calmed down.

He was just grateful that Bobby couldn’t see what he was doing. Sam could imagine the old man now and what he would be saying about ‘how disgusting he was’ and how he couldn’t even wait a reasonable amount of time before desecrating both his memory and his brother.

Sam rested his head beside Dean’s and thought about the last conversation he had had with Bobby: it hadn’t been pleasant. He couldn’t believe that those were going to be the last words that he would ever hear from his surrogate uncle: in fact that whole last hunt had been so unpleasant. Bobby had only spoken to him when he had had to, but his expression when he had looked at Sam had more than made up for his silence. It had just been lucky that Dean _had_ eaten that spiked burger and gotten so stoned from it that he hadn’t noticed the poisonous atmosphere building between his brother and Bobby, because Sam wouldn’t have known where or how to start explaining it to him.

But when Dean had finally come down from the high and fallen asleep, and Sam and Bobby had had that couple of hours with only each other for company in the van, then Sam had received Bobby’s fully open and honest opinion of himself, whether he wanted to hear it or not. Tears pricked his eyes now as he thought about it: Bobby had certainly pulled no punches. But those would be the last words he would ever hear from that gruff voice, and that hurt worse than anything.

Dean was now crying openly beneath him, his strong legs still wrapped around Sam beneath the covers.

Sam moved to kiss him gently. “I’m here, Dean. I’ll _always_ be here. It’ll be okay. We’ll get through this together. It’ll be okay.”

Carefully he laid his head over Dean’s, his forehead resting as gently as he could on the side of Dean’s turned face, and he finally let his own tears go for the old man that he loved and felt he had let down so badly. His tears dropped down onto his brother’s face and mixed with his own tears, flowing together and merging into a steadily growing stream of intense sadness that pooled and spread on the pillow beneath Dean’s head.

Neither brother was aware of the third head that joined them on the pillow, laying as if it should be able to touch Dean’s. Nor were they aware of the strong arm that went round them both. And neither noticed the increasing patch of wetness suddenly grow as Bobby also let his own tears fall as he cried for them and cried for himself.

Because he was dead.


	13. After Emma

Sam rested his forehead against the cold surface of the bathroom mirror. God, what was wrong with him? Had he always been this completely stupid bastard where his brother was concerned? He knew he had to apologise, but he also knew it was probably too late.

He steeled himself to go and try. At least he could try. He would just have to take whatever the consequences of his own actions were. At least he could only blame himself, because it _was_ nobody else’s fault.

With a sigh he pushed the bathroom door open. Stay calm, Sam. Let him shout if he needs to. No matter how upset he is at you, don’t forget this was your doing. You deserve what he says and does.

Dean was sitting on his bed concentrating on his laptop. He didn’t look round at Sam, who could see the firm set of his brother’s jaw just from the silhouette. Sam waited a minute to gather his nerves. He knew he had to try.

Crossing quickly to Dean’s side, he had removed the laptop from his brother’s hands, closed it and put it aside before Dean had realised. Even as his face darkened and he began angrily to get up, Sam was catching at his body and sliding him physically down the bed. Caught off-balance, Dean momentarily toppled backwards onto his back. Sam quickly climbed on top of him, knocking his legs apart with his own so he could lie between them full length on his now prone brother.

“For god’s sake, Sam!”

He winced at the anger in Dean’s voice but he caught for his hands with his, lacing his longer fingers between his brother’s and pulling his hands down to his sides, holding them still. Lastly he just laid his head into the side of Dean’s neck. And just let himself stay there.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could mumble.

Dean grumped and tried to get up but Sam had made himself a dead weight on top of him.

“I’m sorry I acted so stupidly. More than stupid. You were right. And I’ve been such a bastard to you.”

Dean stopped trying to get his hands back from Sam’s strong grip and lay back with definite bad grace. He didn’t bother to respond.

All Sam could do was keep trying.

He had been so jealous because Dean had had a one night stand with a beautiful woman while getting ‘information’ about a brutal and ritualistic series of murders.

Well, he had thought she was a woman. In fact she had been an Amazon, and the only reason she had spent the night with him was she wanted a child. Dean’s child. By the very next day she had given birth to his daughter, a baby girl who had grown into the equivalent of a sixteen year old in just three days and then come to kill her father as part of her initiation into Amazon adulthood.

But she hadn’t.

Dean had been trying to talk her out of it. Sam had simply burst into the room, pulled the trigger and shot her dead. Even though she hadn’t hurt a single person.

And then, after, he had gotten really angry at his brother, told him how stupid he had been because he hadn’t just killed his own daughter. Because she was just a monster like Amy, so why in hell had Dean given her that chance to _decide_ whether to take that step? What was _wrong_ with Dean?

He knew how unfair he had been. He was ashamed of himself and had hidden it by getting angry at his brother, yelling at him.

But he couldn’t miss Dean’s face when he thought of his daughter: he had already loved her unconditionally. And Sam had killed that girl because he couldn’t take the chance that Dean might be hurt. And because he couldn’t deal with his own possessiveness when it came to anybody hurting his brother. They’d argued about it in the car. No. _He_ had argued about it in the car.

Sam knew he might have lost Dean for good because of his actions that day. He knew that might be the last straw for his brother. So all he could do was nuzzle into Dean’s neck, and try and explain.

“You were right. And I hated admitting you were right. Because I have this stupid, stupid high opinion of myself and think I’m clever, and why should I listen to you? And when it’s important, it’s fucking annoying cos you’re always right and I feel so stupid. Like a stupid little kid who’s let you down again.

You were right about Ruby and I wouldn’t listen.

And you were right about Amy. She’d killed four people who didn’t deserve to die.

And you’re right about Emma.

She hadn’t hurt you. She’d come to, but she hadn’t. And you might have talked her round. I know you think you could have talked her round. But what if you hadn’t? Would you have stopped her? Or would you have let her kill you because she was your daughter? Because that’s what I was worried about: not that you _couldn’t_ stop her, but that you _wouldn’t_. You’d let her kill you. I couldn’t bear thinking that. Can’t bear the thought of losing you. Can’t bear the thought of being without you.

But. I should have given her the chance. The chance I insisted Amy should have had, even though she’d _killed_ four people and Emma hadn’t hurt anyone at all...

But you didn’t see her eyes when she turned, Dean. She wasn’t human. She was only three days old for god’s sake. I couldn’t take the chance that she’d hurt you. I know I should have waited, that I’ve acted terribly. But I couldn’t take the chance. And.”

Sam paused as he really, really didn’t want to say the next bit, but he knew that he had to be completely open if he stood any chance of getting his brother back. “And. If I’m really honest, I was jealous. Jealous and scared. Scared because you’d accept her as a daughter. Scared because...”

He couldn’t make himself say it. He tried again. “I always, always go on at you about being so protective of me. Even now, when I’m only a year or so from being thirty. And you’ll still protect me with your life every damn time. It drives me nuts cos I can’t bear the thought of _you_ being hurt either. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m protective of you too!

But I’m worse than that.” This was it. This is what he dreaded saying. And he knew he could never say it if he had to face Dean, so it had to be this way, with him just talking into his brother’s neck.

“I know I’m worse than that! Because I’m possessive of you. I couldn’t bear the thought that that girl might get close to you. I couldn’t bear it: I was jealous of her. Just as I used to be jealous of every girl you were with. As I still am. And now of every man as well! Jealous of anyone who might stop you being mine.

And that’s a terrible thing, Dean. You should have run from me. You should run. You really should. Because there really is something wrong with me! I get petty and stupid and I’ve walked out on you more than once, but I can’t bear the thought of anyone else being in your life. Even your own daughter. You should run, Dean. I’m the worst monster of all.”

He finally fell silent. Sam just stayed as still as he could, afraid to say anything else, afraid of Dean telling him to go. Afraid of losing him because he was just too...too...fucking stupid.

Oh, he thought he was so clever, because he enjoyed learning, he devoured books, he was good with words. He lived for research. But he would be lost without Dean. Really and truly. He _needed_ him in his life.

He needed him in his personal life: he had never been so truly happy in his personal life as he had been these last few months when to his amazement Dean had agreed to try. His brother had tried, for him, and Sam had thrown it back in his face by killing his daughter.

But he also needed Dean as a ....he couldn’t find the word. Sam knew he could read every single book in the whole world but he’d still never learn as much as his brother knew, never have the instinct. Never have the....

Sam still couldn’t define it. Dean was loved by an Angel, had been loved by an Angel, _he_ knew that whether Dean would ever admit it or not. But he also had a definite friendship with the king of Hell. Sam was under no illusions that Crowley would have killed him years ago if it weren’t for his brother. There was something about his brother. Dean even had Death dropping by for visits, for god’s sake!

Somehow his big brother transcended humanity. Perhaps it was apt that he had had a half-human daughter. A daughter who Sam had killed without hesitation, or thought, or compassion. No, Sam thought, Dean should just run from him while he could.

And even as he thought it, Sam also knew that he would follow Dean anywhere until he got him back somehow.

Dean still hadn’t responded. He hadn’t said a word, he hadn’t even moved beneath Sam even though Sam was more acutely aware of his brother’s heartbeat than he was of his own. They still had their fingers entwined together, their heads touching together, Sam’s mouth close enough to touch Dean’s neck. To an onlooker they would just look so relaxed, a couple in love.

But Sam wasn’t fooled. He didn’t want to loosen his grip in case Dean threw him off. And he knew he was probably getting heavy on his brother by now. But he didn’t want to move, or ask, or do anything in case this was the end of his relationship with his brother.

“I was trying to talk her round, Sam. I think I could have.” Sam started at the suddenness of Dean’s words.

“I know. I was just scared that you couldn’t. I couldn’t take the risk. I should have waited. I know I should have. I should have let you try. But I was scared, Dean. I can’t lose you.”

“She’s dead, Sam. She’s gone. And she never hurt anyone. Not like....”

He stopped but Sam knew what he was going to say. And he was correct to say it. Why couldn’t Sam have just seen that instead of being so fucking stupid about it all?

“I know she didn’t, Dean. I know. She wasn’t the monster in the room. _I_ was. And I can’t take it back. No matter what I do or say. And I know you must hate me. I hate myself. I hate myself for not giving you or her the chance. I hate myself for letting you down again.”

Sam paused for a moment. “I hate myself for hurting you again. And I won’t blame you if you tell me to go. And I won’t push you if you never want me to touch you again. Because I won’t. Not if you don’t want it. You’ve given me everything, you always have. And what have I done? Thrown it all back in your face and killed your daughter. But you didn’t see her eyes, Dean. When she turned she wasn’t human! But I should have waited for you to make that call.”

There was a long silence.

Finally Sam became aware of Dean’s physical discomfort, he was being a dead weight on his chest and Dean was starting to struggle beneath him.

“Do you want me to get off?”

Dean didn’t say anything but he finally and deliberately managed to loosen his fingers from Sam’s. Sam tried not to tense, unsure of what might happen. To his amazement, his brother slowly put his arms around him and twisted them both to lie on their sides.

“Turn away, Sammy.”

Sam immediately obeyed, wriggling around to have his back to Dean and let him be the bigger spoon for once, his arms still tight around his younger brother. Sam felt such a sense of relief, felt such a wave of love wash over him towards his always forgiving brother, especially when he knew he didn’t come near to deserving it. He found Dean’s hands with his own again and covered them, holding them against his waist.

“I can’t lose you, Dean, please. What with you getting taken by Cronos, and then this. You have to stay alive. You have to promise me you’ll stay alive.”

“Do what I can, Sammy.”

“You said that before, in the car. But I mean it, Dean. I love you. I can’t lose you. Couldn’t bear it. Please. You have to fight to stay alive for me. Please. And I’m so sorry about Emma.”

They fell silent. Sam lay awake, afraid of the conversation continuing, afraid of asking what would happen now? Where did they stand in their personal relationship?

He was surprised and more than a little relieved when he realised that his brother was softly snoring behind him. He didn’t want to risk moving too much, but slowly and carefully managed to turn back in Dean’s arms until he was facing him. At least he could now put his arms around Dean as well and hold him tight to his own chest.

Dean mumbled in his sleep and nuzzled against him, his hand slipping down to lie around Sam’s waist just as it had been accustomed to the last few months.

Sam felt like crying. Dean was still there with him. Somehow he was still there, despite Sam acting like such a prick towards him. Carefully, gently he pulled enough at the hem of his own t-shirt to let Dean feel the smooth, bare skin beneath with his fingers and his brother’s hand responded of its own accord, sliding into the warmth beneath his shirt as naturally and immediately as a hermit crab finding comfort and sanctuary in a new shell home, curling around Sam’s body to pull him closer to him. Sam fought down the moan that he nearly gave lip to at his brother’s touch and fought down other urges that lustily raised themselves. Now wasn’t the time.

But he was determined now that he was going to make it up to Dean somehow. He couldn’t bring the dead back to life, he knew that. But he was going to do everything he could think of to prove to his brother how much he loved him and appreciated him, and would never, never let him down again.


	14. Cas

Sam lay on his bed stunned. Cas was alive. He had known in his heart that he would be because the Angel, just like them, had a track record of returning from death. And not only was he alive, but once he had realised just what a terrible thing he had done to Sam, by destroying the 'wall' in his head that Death had put there to protect Sam from his own memories and to keep Lucifer at bay, he had immediately offered himself as an alternative and the solution.

 _He_ was now the one locked up in a mental institution with the Devil playing bongo’s every night in his head while Sam was free. And sane, or as sane as Sam felt he could ever get again. He should be happy. He should be ecstatic. He should be grateful.

But he wasn’t.

Because his relief at seeing Cas alive again was tempered by the knowledge that, Cas was _alive_ again. And Sam knew how his brother felt about him, even if Dean himself didn’t. He had teased him unmercilessly about it. So had Bobby: they had both joshed and joked about ‘angel boyfriends’ and how Cas would only ‘come when told to by Dean’, full inference intended, and how he would always stand so close to his brother as if he was just about to....

But then Sam had never realised that Dean was bisexual.

And he had never before really analysed the looks that Dean would give Cas in return, because he would, whether he admitted it or not: he was always looking at Cas, and he was always happy with him around. And always patient, the only person, being, that Sam had ever known Dean to be patient with, well, up to a point anyway.

And when he had insisted of going into that water for Cas’s coat. And held it up and just looked around with so lost an expression on his face....

Neither Sam nor Bobby had made jokes about that.

And he was _alive_. And suffering, just like Sam had been suffering, and Dean had been desperate to help _him_. And now he was desperate to help _Cas_. And once he _had_ helped him, because Sam knew he would somehow. Because he was Dean fucking Winchester and he would do anything, _anything_ for the people he loved, no matter what it took or what he had to give. When once he had, then what?

What would happen with _them_?

Sam was selfish. He knew he was selfish. He knew he was _being_ selfish. He was alive and out of that place, and free of Lucifer. And all he could think was ‘ _why_ did Cas have to come back?’

He looked over at the other bed where Dean was also laying staring at the ceiling in disbelief. No. Not disbelief. Sam could see tears shining in his eyes: from this angle it made the greens of them look like they were rippling, ebbing pools that were somehow not human, but something alive, each of their very own and completely a part of his brother. Sam blinked the image away and shivered, he had suddenly found that very eerie and he didn’t know why.

He sat up and looked across. “I’ll go and get us something to eat. Any preferences?”

Dean just shook his head, didn’t answer.

“I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

He headed to the store, picked up a few supplies, bought a local paper that was announcing a large firework display that night to commemorate the anniversary of the founding of the town, moved to a take-out and grabbed a couple of burgers and fries. Something to eat with fingers, he thought. Returned to the stupid little car that he had stolen, (what sort of car he had no idea and he cared even less, but  _God_ , he missed his brother’s car). Returned to Dean, leaving the food in the car. Wasn’t surprised when he hadn’t moved position at all.

“Come on.”

Dean raised himself up to look at him in surprise. “What?”

“Come on. We’re going out.”

“I don’t...I’m not ...”

“We’re going out, Dean. Come on.”

He had found what he wanted, a couple of thick blankets that they always carried with them, having been forced to sleep out in the Impala probably as much if not more than each of them had ever slept in a bed when young.

“Now.” It was an order.

Dean stared but obeyed. With a sigh he pulled his boots on. Sam could see his face. He was distraught, and mournful, and something else that Sam couldn’t quite make out but didn’t want to.

“Come on.” He tried to hustle his brother along. “Let’s get going.”

He ushered Dean out of the door and bundled him into the passenger seat of the little car, hurried around to the driver’s side and drove them away before Dean could start to get tetchy at him.

“Where we going?”

“You’ll see.”

He drove into the hills that surrounded the small town where they had been staying. They weren’t alone. Many cars were also driving up there, all filled with laughing, smiling faces. All looking for a good spot to stop. Sam had already worked out where he wanted to be, he had mapped it in his head while waiting for the food. And he thought that they should be early enough to still find room there.

He was right. Dean looked round at all the other cars and all the other people as they parked up.

“What is this?”

“Come on.”

Sam loaded Dean up with the food and a six pack, grabbed the blankets himself and led his brother down a small path to find a good vantage point, preferably away from everyone else. _There_ was a likely spot. On the edge of a small ledge, plenty big enough for one blanket, hopefully not big enough for more.

Dean watched as he spread one of the blankets he was carrying down, pulling it slightly up to cushion a handy small boulder that would be good, if not painful after a while, to lean against. Then he settled himself down and motioned for his brother to sit beside him.

Dean did, handing Sam the boxes and bottles before joining him. He sat up and studied the view of the town below them with interest. “I’m taking it we’re not here to watch a football match?”

“Fireworks!” Sam threw him the paper. “Should be good from up here.”

Dean nodded, didn’t speak, but it was a happier silence than earlier. Sam opened the cartons and they shared the meal without needing to talk as the whole area filled up around them with laughter and noise and the ever darkening sky finally couldn’t be discernible from the dark of the land beneath, aside for the town itself which was lit by the street lights.

Finally the tension in the air rose as the designated time got closer: the conversations around them got muted as one by one, all eyes turned to watch the display, not wanting to miss a thing. Noise levels reduced to a rumble apart from the occasional plaintive squeals of very young children who didn’t understand why they were there and didn’t care. All eyes were on the view below, nobody was interested in anything around them.

Sam finally felt safe enough to move. They had already cleared up the remains of the food and packed it to take back to the car. But now he shifted his own body, and Dean’s who was surprised but allowed him to, until Sam was sitting leant against that chosen boulder, his strong arms wrapped around his brother who he had manhandled into sitting between his long legs with his back resting against Sam’s chest, their heads close enough for him to be able to nuzzle Dean’s with his mouth.

“Saaam.” It wasn’t a warning growl, just an uncertain one. They were in public after all.

“I’ll let you go as soon as it’s over. No one will see. Nobody’s interested. Nobody knows us. Just let me hold you while we watch this. Please.”

Dean nodded slightly but didn’t respond. But then neither did he pull away. Not even when Sam took the other blanket and tucked it over them both against the increasing chill of the night. He just half lay against his younger brother, feeling his warmth against his back; the solidness of his chest; the strength of his arms as he surrounded Dean’s body and covered his hands with his larger ones; the feel of his legs either side of Dean’s body.

The fireworks were just a bonus.

It was a fantastic display. It lasted for nearly half an hour and the brothers felt like part of something special as they oohed and ahhed with the crowd that had arrived from all over the county to see this. And when it was finally over and the excited conversations began again all around them and the noise grew to untenable levels once more as people began to pack away their chairs and blankets, and pick up their belongings, and call panicked for their over-tired and wayward children, and decide how they could carry them back to the cars along with every else they had brought, and exclaim loudly that why didn’t they think to bring flashlights: so the brothers just sat and waited for the hubbub to die down.

And as Sam had said, nobody looked at them, nobody noticed. And if they did, all they saw were two men in love. And if they had an opinion on that, it wasn’t the night to go spoiling by sharing it aloud.

The brothers didn’t move until most of the rest had gone. Then Dean helped Sam to his feet, they picked their belongings up and joined the exodus to the cars. As long as they could remember which stupid car it was they had.

And when they finally returned to the motel to get some much needed rest, Sam felt he would almost cry with relief as Dean quietly removed his clothes and joined his little brother in the small bed, resting his head against the side of Sam’s chest with his arm over his body. Sam hugged him tightly, nuzzled the top of his head with his lips and let him sleep.

He was there. With Sam. Cas was alive and back, but Dean was there with Sam. What would happen tomorrow, Sam didn’t know. Tonight he would just appreciate what he had.


	15. The Trap

“Let’s just get back to the motel and discuss this, Bobby.”

How strange it seemed to say that. They were both still stunned from when they had walked back into that large hallway and seen their surrogate uncle, their _dead_ surrogate uncle, standing there. Unfortunately the excitement and emotion of the moment had dissipated extremely quickly as reality had set in. Bobby was a ghost. They hunted ghosts for good reason. Because the longer a ghost was trapped on earth, usually the more insane, and more dangerous, it got. And Bobby was a _ghost!_

Nothing had been said until they had got into the car. Then the brothers had discussed the situation and what to do. On reflection, they really should have considered that there was no such thing as privacy from a ghost, but at the time it had come as a nasty shock when he had suddenly materialised on the rear seat and laid into the both of them verbally.

And they were both exhausted, especially Dean. It had taken a good few hours to give Bobby’s friend Annie a proper Hunter’s send-off. Plus they had a lot of other bones to sort out, salt and burn as well. Twice Sam had thought they had finished. Twice he was disappointed.

Dean drove him crazy when he did this. They had only come across a serial killer scenario a few times in their career, but each time it had ended like this. Dean just would not leave until the last of the victims had been found and their remains dealt with respectfully. He would get single-minded about it. It had almost caused them to be nearly linked to a couple of scenes of multiple murder, Sam still had nightmares about being caught on some old CCTV somewhere and the warrants being issued.

More than once he had gotten so angry at his brother that he had simply returned to the motel or wherever and just waited for his brother to exhaust both his obsession and himself, finally following only when he was satisfied that he had done the clean-up job to the best of his ability. Sam could see the irony: he himself was fascinated with serial killers for the murderers and crimes themselves while his brother seemed to have a strange fascination with finding all the victims.

Which had been exactly the case here. Even though they had found a huge stash of rotting bodies and bones in that secret room, Dean was convinced that there were more.

“What are you talking about?” Sam had gotten very frustrated in his tiredness. “They’re all here.”

“Not all of them.”

So Dean had kept looking. And Sam had sighed and helped him. And been amazed when they had found a dumbwaiter bricked over in one of the walls with another pile of bones in it. The woman had smiled broadly when she was released and finally allowed to leave. At least that was it, they could also finally pack up and go.

But no. Dean had _still_ wanted to keep looking.

Sam had gotten quite narky about it. Bobby had long since disappeared to ‘recharge’ or whatever ghosts did. Sam wished he could as well. Why did Dean always do this?

He retreated to one of the musty, dusty sofas in the main musty, dusty room. He needed a rest for a few moments. To his chagrin, when he opened his eyes seemingly the very next minute, the next day's dawn was beginning to break. How long had he been asleep? And where was Dean?

With a hungry sigh, he went to look.

He was about to head up the stairs again to look through the multitude of rooms for his brother when he felt the slight draught against his hair. It was coming from a room at the rear: a private little drawing room. Sam poked his head in, it didn’t look much.

“Dean?”

“Through here.”

He followed the voice, and the breeze that was now beautifully perfumed but chilling his body. To his surprise the small room wasn’t! Unseen from the door that he had entered by was another door that led to an old-style conservatory that had been built to run right along most of the back of the house and look out on to the garden. Sam could just about make out the undergrowth outside in the gloom of dawn, all now run to weeds and tangled thorns.

The conservatory itself had been built around raised beds that, given the depth of the hole that Dean was in, had originally been part of the land outside with the room built around them. Sam could see guttering and pipes strategically laid to catch rainwater and perpetually water the plants inside. And they were all in bloom: beautiful….lilies? Orchids? Sam didn’t know but the various scents were overwhelming all his senses. And as he shone his flashlight around, the colours and variations of the flowers were also striking. Perfect tropical blooms, all alive and flourishing in this old beginning to crumble conservatory. Sam could appreciate that this must have been a lovely place to relax in when it had been first built: he would have taken breakfast in there every morning if it were him.

Dean was down at the furthest end, absolutely filthy, completed exhausted. He must have dug down nearly to grave depth, mindless of how he was scattering the heady-scented plants and their roots around.

“Whatcha doing there?”

“There’s two more. They’re here somewhere.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

Dean didn’t respond except for a shrug.

Sam sighed and just watched. For what seemed like a long time. “Dean, there’s nothing there.”

His brother was vindicated when he found the bones, all but rotten in the damp mulch that they had been buried in for so long. Sam swore in consternation and helped him to clear the earth away as best they could. There was definitely more than one person’s remains there. It was lucky that Dean found them.

When they finally thought they had uncovered them all, he grabbed the salt while Dean soaked them with gasoline. They both stepped back as he lit the matches and dropped them in the hole.

As the flames flared, Sam started as he could finally see the released spirits: a young couple in old-fashioned clothes, appearing right beside where his brother stood. They had died young, very young. They only looked like teenagers, holding hands in a first love that had obviously been ended by being in the wrong place at very much the wrong time. Even as he realised that Dean hadn’t been surprised at their sudden appearance at all, the young girl leant up on her toes and kissed his brother gently on the cheek, then they were both gone, finally escaping their long entrapment.

“I wonder who they were?”

“Jack and Molly Reeves. They’d just eloped, asked if they could stay the night.”

Sam turned to him and raised his eyebrows.

“Their names were in the visitor book in the lobby.” Dean explained.

“Yes but….how do you know it’s them?”

But Dean was already packing up, catching up his spade, making sure he had left nothing behind, having absolutely no need anymore for a flashlight in the slowly decreasing darkness because of his exceptional, almost cat-like eyesight.

“Ready to go?”

“Is that it?”

“That’s it.”

“How do you know?”

Sam sighed as Dean ignored him and began to head out. He followed with the spade. It had been a long night. Now both of them just wanted to return to the motel, shower and sleep, not necessarily going to happen in that order, and discuss what to do about Bobby.

Which had led to their mistake of discussing him in the car on route. A mistake they were both bitterly regretting now. He was incensed by being spoken about as if he had done something wrong by staying to try and help, rather than accepting his place in heaven. And he was letting his anger show.

“I don’t want to go to no damn motel! I want to go home! Well, okay, that was burnt down. But let’s go to Rufus’s cabin. At least I can feel like I’m somewhere I know and belong at. Cos you two are making me feel completely unwelcome. I saved your life, Dean. I pushed that samurai sword within reach and this is how you respond? I’m ashamed of you.”

“Bobby, that’s not fair.” Sam was twisting in his seat to try and defend his brother “You’re a ghost. You know what happens to spirits when they don’t move on. Especially when they’ve got unfinished business….”

His words faltered as he caught the quick glance Bobby gave him. There was the slightest wink. Or had Sam just imagined that?

“I’m telling you boys, I want to go to the cabin! Grab your stuff from the motel and let’s go.”

“Bobby, that’s a full day’s drive back to Montana. I need some rest!” Dean was sounding exhausted.

But now Sam had realised what Bobby was doing. He would hug him as soon as Dean’s back was turned….well, he would have to metaphorically hug him. Or just say thanks. How do you hug a ghost? Was it at all possible? He shook himself out of all these pointless thoughts. Bobby was keeping his promise and getting Dean back to that cabin. He had to back him up now without raising Dean’s suspicions.

“Rest when you’re dead! Like me!”

“That’s the point! You’re _not_ resting!”

Sam interrupted. “There were a couple of useful books I left back at the cabin. I could do with those. And if Bobby feels happier there it might keep him calm….” He hoped he had said this with enough inference but not too much. He was relieved when his brother seemed to pick up on it.

“Okay. Let me grab some sleep and we’ll head back. That okay, Bobby?”

“No! I want to go now!”

Even Sam started at the sudden temper. He almost believed that their surrogate uncle was actually starting to lose control of his sanity, but again a quick glance from Bobby reassured him that this was all just an act for Dean’s benefit.

“Okay.” He tried to sound nervous and anxious . “We can take turns driving. Just let us grab a shower each and we’ll….”

“Damned idgits.” Bobby grumped from the rear of the car. “I’m dead and they’re worried about how they smell!”

Sam had to turn away to hide his smirk. Bobby was playing this perfectly. He could almost physically feel Dean’s anxiety levels increasing exponentionally beside him. If they could keep him tired as well then he would soon be running on adrenalin only. Drink and temper would be a potent mix on top of that: it would send his self-control out of the window leaving them to only have to deal with the fall-out.

So he let Bobby bully and wind his brother up. They had returned to the motel and packed their few belongings up quickly, had both managed to grab a shower and changed into stuff passable for clean clothes, and piled back into whatever the car was they were driving now. Dean headed it north and off they went.

They drove in silence for a long time. Sam dozed in the passenger seat: he wasn’t even sure that Bobby was there in the car after a while, but Dean kept driving. Until he had to stop for gas and to grab some supplies.

He took his share with him into the rear seat while Sam took over the driving, desperate to get his head down for at least a couple of hours. He was trying to get comfortable in the smaller car, (god, he missed his Baby so _much!_ ) when Bobby reappeared and startled him so much he sat up again. And the older man was apparently rested because he began to talk to him. And talk. And poke Dean in the ribs when he tried to ignore him. And talk.

They talked about anything and everything. About old cars. About new cars. About old cases. And old books. About the leviathans. About how Bobby was going to let go and get on up to Heaven. About how he was a stupid frigging idgit who didn’t appreciate anything. About why in hell they were driving all this fucking way back to that fucking cabin. About how about minding your language, boy, or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap. About how hungry and tired he was, next stop he was going to find a burger. No, he damn well wasn’t going to stop for a frigging burger, didn’t he remember what had happened last time he ate one? No more burgers for him. _Ever_.

Sam decided to stop before Dean threw either himself or the ghost out of the moving vehicle. It needed filling up again anyway and he needed a rest stop. Bobby took a turn at him to keep it fair. “What do you need a rest for?” “Why don’t you just go and have eternal rest?” “Why do I bother with you idgits?” “Don’t start on _me_ again, I didn’t say a thing this time!” “Look, what do you want to eat?” “Well, it’s a fat lot of use asking _me_ , isn’t it, you idgit?” “Oh, for fucks sake, let’s grab something and get going!” “Next sink I catch you standing by, boy, I’m washing your mouth out, I really am!”

This time Sam took the back seat to try and rest. He was grateful that Bobby joined his brother in the front of the car, still complaining and grumping and bitching. Even as he finally managed to fall asleep, he could see Dean becoming more and more stressed.

“That’s it, Bobby,” was his last clear thought for a couple of hours. “”Keep him fraught. Get him angry. He’ll blow up and speak without thinking then. God bless you, old man.”

He woke up to find that the sun was going down again and Dean was still driving. There was no sign of Bobby.

“Said he needed recharging.” His brother answered the unspoken question as he noticed him stirring in the mirror. “Don’t know why he’s in such as hurry to get back here. Not like it’s his house. We could have talked anywhere.”

“Perhaps it’s the last place he was happy.”

Sam struggled to climb over the top of the front seat to join Dean in the front. _God_ , how he missed the Impala. Eventually he managed to land in an irritated and muddled tangle of long limbs in the passenger seat. Dean watched him with amusement, but said nothing.

“How’re you doing? Do you want me to drive for a while?”

“He’s fine.”

They both started as Bobby suddenly reappeared somehow between them in the front of the car, causing Dean to jerk at the wheel: the car doing a major swerve and almost running off the road before he managed to correct it.

“Jesus, Bobby! Don’t _do_ that!”

Sam tried to control his pounding heart and tried to speak through a suddenly very dry mouth. “Remember, _we_ want to get there alive, Bobby. No offence.”

“None taken, boy. Sorry. We’re getting nearly there now though. Only a few more hours. How about turning the radio on. Or this old piece of crap will play your tapes. I won’t call it music. One thing you and your daddy had in common: crap taste in music. Not like good country. Just noise.”

Bobby glanced sideways at Sam, his countenance briefly showing his pride and amusement at having found the next source of attack. Sam sighed to himself: this was going to be a long night.

He was right, it was.

Dean and Bobby didn’t stop arguing until well into the early hours of the next morning. About how country music was much better than that modern rubbish. About how he didn’t know what he was talking about because these albums were classics. _Classics_! And anyway, could he leave them alone as he was getting ectoplasm crap all over them and the box. "Don’t you be shouting at me, boy." "Well don’t touch my stuff, just leave the tapes alone." "Only rubbish anyway, give me good old country any day." "Not this again." "You’re so ungrateful, boy. I stayed to help you." "You _shouldn’t_ have, why _did_ you?" "Well, if that’s how you feel then I’ll go." " _Good!_ " "No, cos I got a job to finish and you’ll only mess it up, so you’ll just have to put up with it and me. Now put on another tape and let’s hear how terrible this one is, why don’t you have anything worth listening to, like country?"

Sam was already long asleep by this point, his head uncomfortably banging against the passenger window, but the argument permeated his dreams to form a weird ongoing nightmare. He felt he was driving down a long road that was gradually transforming into the tape from a huge, _huge_ cassette and he couldn’t get off. He was destined to follow that tape until it eventually ran into the spool of the cassette, and he knew without doubt or hope that he was going to be unpleasantly squashed to death when it happened.

As the road tape finally ran out and the end seemed imminent, he awoke with a sudden panic and a lot of blinking. He took a few deep breaths to get his heart to stop beating so loudly and looked around in the approaching dawn, finally recognising where they were on the road.

They were almost there.

Dean let the car trundle down the rutted lane that led to Rufus’s cabin with an almost physical relief. He was so over-exhausted that he was struggling to see straight and had been so for a few hours, although he had decided not to pass that information on to his brother. What the hell was Bobby’s problem? It was if he had determined to make him suffer for something, or was his sanity already nearly gone? Whatever, Dean determined, as soon as they got in that cabin, he was going to sleep and sleep and sleep, and there would be nothing the ghost would be able to do to stop that.

He pulled the car up close to the door and got out with a stretch of his arms and back while Sam went to open the door. It wasn’t ‘home’. Not like Bobby’s house had been, but it was somewhere they had all got accustomed to.

Dean grabbed his bags out and headed inside. “I’ve got to crash.”

He headed to the small bedroom with the twin single beds that he and his brother had been using when they were there.

“And in which bed _this_ time? Do ya think I don’t know you two share?”

“Bobby?”

Dean turned and stared like a frightened rabbit caught in headlights. Even Sam caught his breath, taken aback by the form of the older man’s next attack.

“ _You_ two. I may be a ghost but I’m not blind. What the hell do you think you’re doing? It’s sick, that’s what it is.”

With a glance at Sam, Bobby was walking to the door that led to the basement and passing straight through it.

“Bobby. I...”

Sam’s heart froze at Dean’s distraught expression, he could see all the shame and fear bubbling up to the surface of his brother’s opinions of himself. 'For god’s sake Bobby', he thought, 'please, you said you were angry at me, not at him. Don’t do this to him'.

But he had no choice but to follow the play that the ghost had chosen. He could only follow as Dean hurried to open the basement door and run down the steep steps to try and catch up to Bobby, to try and explain what he knew he couldn’t.

Sam felt even worse when he got to the bottom of the stairs and realised that Bobby was on a roll, his brother trying desperately to get a word in, but failing miserably.

“I never thought I’d see the day. Two brothers. Disgusting. I know you’ve both been through some stuff, but is this your coping mechanism? Sick. You two smooching. Wished I could’ve asked you to leave that damned flask somewhere else some nights. In the car. Anywhere! Damn twisted. Bleack!” This was with a definite facial expression. “Unforgivable...

How did it happen then, boy? _You’re_ the eldest? How? And how long? All these years. It better not have been under my roof...”

“Bobby. Bobby! Listen, please...” Dean was desperate.

Sam hated this. He hated Bobby at that moment. And himself. But Bobby was signalling him to get some of the ropes from the shelf at the back of the large underground room.

“I don’t want to listen how this abomination began. Actually, yes I do!” Bobby pushed Dean suddenly and physically. Hard enough that Dean had to step back to recover his balance and instead fell bodily into the hard chair behind him that was permanently bolted securely to the concrete floor. “You just sit there! And tell me what the hell you two were thinking!”

He was leaning forward now, leaning over Dean, summoning all of his energy as a ghost to physically hold him down on the chair, his hands firm against his chest. “You tell me boy! I want to know!”

Even as Sam wrapped the first heavy rope around his brother’s body to tie him to the chair, he could feel how Dean’s heart was pounding erratically and wildly in his chest. He was shocked, and prayed that they wouldn’t cause him to have a heart attack rather than getting the answers they both desperately wanted. It was time perhaps to try and calm him and this situation down.

But instead Dean’s heart rate went up as he suddenly realised what was happening. He tried to get up from the chair but couldn’t as he was caught tightly between the determination of the ghost holding him in place and the tightening of the tethers around him.

“What the hell? What are you doing?”

Sam grabbed for his arms and forcibly bent them both around the back of the uncomfortable seat to handcuff them together with not one but two sets of manacles around his wrists.

“Sam? What’s going on? He sounded frantic now. “What the hell is this?”

Sam tied yet another length of rope around him and finally the other two felt they could step back.

Bobby sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, boy. I didn’t mean any of that.”

“What? What the hell....” he was pulling at the restraints, already making his wrists bleed from the metal containing them so harshly.

“Bobby knows about us because I told him, Dean.” His brother stopped from struggling momentarily and stared wide-eyed at Sam. “I told him _everything_. What I did. What Soulless me did. He’s disgusted at me. I deserve it. He’s not angry at you. I’m so sorry you just had to take that, I wasn’t expecting that. He’s angry at _me_ , not at you. Never at you.”

“That’s true, boy.” Bobby agreed whole-heartedly. “I’ve got some issues with Sam. A _lot_ of issues with Sam. But not with you. Don’t you listen to a word of what I said before. When Sam told me what he had done in both his forms.... Made me feel sick. I should have been there to help you against that soulless bastard, he should never have touched you. You should have been able to come to me. You should have been able to come to me before...”

“Before? What are you talking...? No, Sam. Tell me you didn’t. No.”

Sam really thought Dean was going to collapse, he was getting paler with every breath, but at the same time more and more desperate not to be there. It was somehow reminiscent of an animal finding itself caught in a trap and getting ready to fight for its life with every last beat of its dying heart.

“I told him everything, Dean. About me raping you. About the other rape. About your nightmare. I want to know. I _need_ to know. That’s why we’re here. And we’re not going anywhere until you tell me. _Us_. Please Dean, just tell me what happened, I want to help.”

“It’s the past. Leave it in the past. Not your business.” Dean had his head down, tugging frantically at the tight restraints around him. He wouldn’t look up at them. They would probably wince at his expression of betrayal if either of them could see it anyway.

“ _We_ just want to help, boy.”

He finally looked up, straight at Bobby. His eyes so dark, his body so tense, so angry. “Go to Hell.”

They both winced at the tone of his voice.

“That’s what we guessed. Sam, go and get yourself something to eat and get more rest if you need it. I’ll take first watch. I’m guessing it’s going to be a long couple of days. But we _will_ have the truth, Dean. Things like this shouldn’t be a secret. Not between family, anyway. No such thing as secrets between family.”


	16. Miss Susie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Didn't like the rape chapter? Don't read this.

It took Dean the best part of two days to finally break free of the two pairs of handcuffs and numerous tight knots and escape from the basement as soon as they had left him unguarded. Luckily his legs had been stiff from where they had kept him tied up and he hadn’t been able to run as easily or as fast as he normally could.

And Sam’s anxiety about him had given him enough adrenalin to run faster than he had ever done before once he had realised he was gone, and his knowledge of his brother had been a godsend. He knew which way he would run and had reacted immediately, determined to head him off before Dean could reach the end of the small sparsely vegetated track that led down to their temporary home and disappear into the much thicker woods beyond. Sam knew from experience that Dean could and would be able to survive years in a forest without being found if he didn’t want to be.

Bobby had summoned all of his ability to grab up the handcuffs and rope and follow, materialising just in time to hear Dean’s shout as he went down physically beneath his brother’s full-on body tackle. Sam didn’t give him the chance to get up: he used his own body weight as a weapon and pinned Dean’s chest and legs down beneath his own sharp knees and strong hands, careful not to let his head get within range of his angry brother’s.

“Calm down.”

He winced at the obscenities that poured from Dean’s mouth. Bobby immediately handed him the items he had brought as he knelt on Dean’s prone body and between them they tied him up in the rope and handcuffs so that a mouse couldn’t have escaped the tight bonds. Then they were left with the problem of returning him to the cabin: it wouldn’t be easy for Sam to try to carry a live, resisting, foul-mouthed dead weight that distance on his own.

The problem was solved for them, and another one immediately created, by a car trundling along the rough track towards them.

“Balls!” Bobby immediately vanished.

Sam threw his brother physically off the trail and went to greet the driver and hopefully turn whoever it was around.

“You boys okay?” Both Winchester’s tensed at the loud, hearty voice of Jodie Mills. Sheriff Jodie Mills.

“Hey Jodie! What brings you up here?” Sam knew his voice was louder than usual.

“Aw, I just wondered how you were doing. You know, with the house burning down and then Bobby.... You boys eating properly, Sam?”

“We’re good. I was just out for a walk. Then I was going to go to the store. So don’t you worry about us.”

“Aw, that’s good to hear, Sam, that’s good... Sam, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure thing, Jodie.”

“Why were you tying Dean tighter than a trussed-up turkey? Is he possessed or something?”

Dean could hear Sam’s sigh from where he was hidden, it was so loud. “Not exactly, Jodie. It’s. It’s a long story. But. If you could help me get him back inside, that would really be appreciated."

She didn’t hesitate. “Sure thing.”

She had been around the boys enough not to turn a hair as Sam crammed Dean into the rear-seat of her car and all but sat on him to hold him down inside it. Neither did she listen to his entreaties for her to do her fucking duty and arrest Sam for assault and grievous bodily harm and false imprisonment against him, but instead just got calmly into the driver’s seat and drove them both back up to the cabin.

Although she did whisper loudly to Sam as he manhandled Dean out of the car again: “If he’s not possessed, then is it a spell? Or is he drugged by something?”

“Neither.” Sam had answered as he had held Dean down as she helped him to adjust the handcuffs one at a time to attach Dean’s wrists to each front leg of the heavy two seat sofa, leaving him forced into a sitting crucifix position on the floor with his arms stretched apart behind him. No way was he getting his hands together to loosen the restraints this time. “He’s just really pissed at me, that’s all.”

Jodie’s eyebrows rose but she remained silent as Sam tried to loosen some of the tighter restraints that were surely cutting off Dean’s circulation by now. “Just stay still and I’ll at least let you move your legs.”

But he forgot Dean’s rage as he fumbled with a tight knot and moved his head too close to his furious brother. There was a loud crack as Dean’s head jerked forward and intentionally connected with Sam’s forehead just below his hairline. Sam went down physically with the blow.

Jodie cried out and leapt forward to pull his body out of the way even as Dean kicked out at him with his boots. Then she cried out in surprise as Bobby quickly materialised and helped her. He had never seen Dean so angry. It would have taken his breath away if he had had any.

As Jodie helped him sit a groggy Sam on the floor in the small kitchen area and put a cool flannel on the immediate and growing bump on his head, she whispered: “Bobby? How did you…? But you’re….? And what the hell is going on, Bobby?”

“Damned if I know, Jodie. There’s something in his past he really don’t want us to know about. I’ve never seen him like this.”

Sam tried to shake off the worst of the pain and put his hand up to his head. Jodie tried to stop him as he carefully got to his feet, still holding the cold cloth to his head. He seemed as shaken by Dean’s anger as they both were.

“We’ve got to find out, Bobby. This has got to end.”

Bobby nodded. There was no going back: tempers had frayed too much now, this would either be the end of the brother’s relationship or a new beginning. Sam took a deep breath and started towards where Dean was tied up on the floor.

Jodie caught at his arm. “Why not let him calm down a bit first?”

Her hand was shrugged off.

“I’ll fucking get him calm.”

Bobby winced at the tone of his voice and looked helplessly at Jodie: Sam was just as stubborn as his brother and just as angry.

Sam strode over to Dean and looked down at him for a moment. Dean didn’t turn his face up to return the stare, but Jodie and Bobby could tell by the stiff stance he was sitting in that he was still as enraged as he had been if not more so. They could also see blood starting to trickle down his wrists yet again where he had taken the moment’s inattention on him to try and get the handcuffs loose.

“You going to calm down and talk to us?”

“Fuck you.”

Sam glanced back over to the small area where Bobby and Jodie were anxiously watching. His expression turned darker than they had ever seen it before as he debated with himself his next move.

Then: “Screw it!”

He had made up his mind. With a sudden movement of his long legs he was on the sofa behind where his brother had been forced to sit, then just as quickly he was down on top of him with his full weight before Dean had even had time to turn his head up to try and work out what he was doing. Sam literally stood down on the tops of his thighs, quickly descending to a (less painful for Dean) kneeling position, pinning his brother’s legs with his own and his not inconsiderable weight. At the same time he had grabbed Dean’s head as he descended in a firm grip that caused a grunt of pain from his brother as it was pulled back roughly against the sofa behind.

Then, to Bobby’s discomfort and Jodie’s exclamation, Sam plunged his tongue into Dean’s mouth.

The two onlookers could make out his breathy words even as Dean tried to twist away. “Oh, go on then. You bite it, you bastard! Take my tongue off. Go on then. You’d be more upset about it than I would! So either do it or calm down. I mean it, calm down.”

Dean desperately tried to get loose from his firm grip and the mouth all but inside his own. Sam just held him firmly, placing his other hand gently against his brother’s chest and beginning to rub in a soothing movement. Gradually the kiss turned more tender. Bobby and Jodie watched in astonishment as Dean visibly calmed, responding to Sam’s mouth and touch.

Eventually Sam broke the kiss. He didn’t look around at the other two: he just leant close to Dean so his mouth met his ear and whispered gently into it for a few minutes. Bobby couldn’t hear: on reflection he thought he probably didn’t want to. But he could see the effect. Dean’s eyes closed and he was quite still and quiet when Sam leant back.

“You going to behave now?”

Dean studied him, but didn’t shout or swear. His voice when he spoke was quiet but it had a strange desperation in it. “Please Sammy. Let this go.”

“I can’t.” Sam carefully rested his forehead against his brother's and whispered back. “I need to know. I need you to trust me enough to tell me.”

“I do trust you, Sam.” Was it Bobby’s imagination or was Dean close to tears? “But please. Let this go. Let the past stay past.”

“I can’t.” This time Sam did look around at Bobby and the older man felt himself nod. “Neither can Bobby. Just tell us. Whatever it is. Don’t keep it all inside yourself.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was a low rumble but not threatening. Just a last plea.

Sam sighed and pulled away from him, getting up and crossing back to where the others stood.

“Look. We’ll get you something to eat. We haven’t let you eat for the last two days, you must be hungry.”

“I’m fine.” Dean turned his head away.

Sam and Bobby exchanged worried glances. Jodie understood and joined Sam as he began to look through the cupboards and fridge for something that they could get Dean to eat without having to loosen his restraints. He might be calmer but even Jodie had realised not to trust him: they weren’t complete idiots.

“How’s your head?” the older man floated behind Sam and asked quietly. “That was a real crack he gave you.”

“Sore. Probably so is his. I’m worried, Bobby.”

“So am I son, so am I”

“Do either of you want to tell me what this is about?” Jodie began.

They all paused as all the electrical items went momentarily crazy; the fridge open and shut on its own, the small microwave turned itself on, the kettle jerked itself to the edge of its lead. Sam immediately grabbed for Bobby’s always ready shotgun and as one, the three of them turned to face whatever was causing it.

There was nothing amiss in the room. Nothing unusual to be seen. Unless they counted Dean, sitting in his restrained position on the floor, his arms outspread behind him handcuffed to the legs of the sofa, sitting straight, staring at the wall, staring at something none of them could see.

Sam stepped forward raising the gun, ready to fire at whatever was there.

“Sam!” Dean’s voice was an order. “No.”

His brother lowered the gun. “What is it?”

“Not what.” Dean replied. “Who.”

And as if he had given permission, the ghost materialised.

The three onlookers all winced. She had obviously been very beautiful in life, more than beautiful. A young girl, just on the threshold of womanhood. Dark Latino looks: almost black hair, the deepest brown eyes, long thin nose, tall slim features. But all this had been marred by her death. And it had obviously been a horrifically violent, unnatural one.

Through her tattered and ragged short dress they could see sections of gore where her skin had been flayed away. Marks over her face and legs showed burns from pokers or cattle brands. Her left arm was unnaturally bent and twisted almost completely around as if the shoulder had been dislocated and then pulled about physically. She had several fingers missing, only the stumps remaining. And everywhere were the marks of bruises upon bruises: fist-sized, boot sized. But the worst was her neck. There were many deep cuts there: some short, others where something had been slashed at her, but all eclipsed by the one that had finally claimed her short life, the one that ran literally from ear to ear and still shone with blackish blood.

“Oh my God.” Jodie whispered for them all.

“Sam!” Bobby was urgent. “This isn’t just a ghost! I can feel pure power rolling off this thing! It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before! We’ve got to get Dean away from it!”

But so intense was the ghost’s gaze on Dean, and so intense was the one he was returning to her that the other three all knew that this was someone, something he had met before. Sam and Bobby both instinctively tensed and readied themselves in case.

Then Dean suddenly smiled: a genuine open smile that the other two men in the room had all but forgotten had existed in the last few years. “Hey Miss Susie.”

“Hey, Dean-boy.”

The voice was unreal. The figure was young but this voice was old, almost ancient. And in an accent of the deepest Southern drawl that dripped syrup and molasses over every word. Sam and Jodie could feel the force behind the voice that Bobby had immediately instinctively felt. With the first few words, they could feel themselves being lulled into silence, they were only here to watch not participate. What was this thing?

Even as Sam felt his brain being closed down by the settling in the room of calm unhurried, unworried power he remembered the article – daughter of the infamous witch. This was a witch. The ghost of a witch. They were in the presence of something beyond otherworldly and completely unknown, well to him, Bobby and Jodie anyway. Dean was on first name terms with her.

She flickered, vanished and immediately re-materialised right beside his brother, kneeling down and reaching for his face with what was left of her hands. He didn’t even flinch, he just smiled and accepted her touch.

“Look at you, boy. You’ve gotten so fine. So fine, boy.”

Even as she turned his head gently in her hands to examine him, the others could see flickers and flashes of white, pale greeny-blue light flicking from her broken fingers, settling around herself and Dean like little sparks of energy. They landed on Dean’s legs and chest and dissipated as if never having been there.

“All grown up. Not the boy I knew anymore. But still mine. Always will be mine. Mmm, so fine indeed.” She smiled at him: a genuine, long, lazy smile somehow unmarred by the deep bruises on what had been her face and the missing teeth. “But it’s time to let the secrets go now, my Dean-boy. They’re tearing you apart. Tearing your little family apart. Time to let go of all of them.”

“No, Miss Susie. Some don’t ever need to be told.” He was stern with her despite the deep, soothing, comfortable containment that was overcoming the other humans in the room.

“Yes boy. Time you should.”

“I said no, Miss Susie.”

The sudden understated command in his voice momentarily brought all the three others to their senses: Dean was not only not afraid of this powerful being, he expected her to listen to his words and obey them.

And she did.

“Okay, my Dean-boy, okay.” The unhurried, unflustered drawl took everyone in the room back into their pleasant, syrupy trances. “If that’s what you want. They’re not my secrets to tell. But.” She leant forward, right into his face. The whisper was clear and loud enough to be heard by them all. “But I can tell them what _are_ mine, boy.”

She laughed as he frowned at her, a genuine tinkling laugh. The sparks of light from her fingers grew more intense, falling onto him like a slight sprinkling of glowing and glinting snow and disappearing just as quickly as if they were landing on a hot sidewalk. “Time to let them all go, Dean.”

The three watchers almost expected her to kiss him, she had got that close, but instead she sat back slightly on her twisted heels, still holding his face in her palms and began to talk. The ancient voice spoken in its unhurried deep drawl seemed to become a physical thing that ebbed and flowed around the room, washing any desire to move away from the scene completely away. Sam, Bobby and Jodie could only watch and listen now. And they all did so intently.

“You tell them, boy. You tell them how your daddy left you for a weekend and still wasn’t back nine days later. You tell them how desperate you were because the motel owner kept asking you for money and was threatening to call the police in for abandonment. You tell them about how you hadn’t eaten for two days because you’d kept the last for your brother. And you daren’t go back in the store because the owner had nearly caught you stealing the last time and you knew he’d be watching you so close. You tell them how you were so desperate you didn’t know what to do. How your tenth birthday came and went that week and you were still so hungry and your brother was angry at you for not getting a cake.”

Sam could feel a tear trickle down his face at the memory, but he couldn’t speak or even put his hand up to stop it.

“Oh my Dean.” She sighed, a genuinely sad sigh. “You were cold and hungry and desperate, and beautiful even then. And that man came up to you and offered you money. Just for giving what was already being taken from you.” Although Dean had appeared to have also been going into a trance, he stirred himself enough to frown at her. “It made sense, didn’t it boy? And that money was vital, wasn’t it? Bought you food, paid for your beds. Kept you and your brother alive. It seemed a good way out, something to bear in mind.”

“Wait.” He was trying to shake off the effect of her voice, trying to sit up straight again and think. “How do you know this, Miss Susie?”

Again there was that genuine, loving, womanly laugh. It sounded so incongruous from the figure of the young girl beside him. “I’ll tell you, boy. But not yet. There’s a right way to tell a story, it needs to be done properly.”

“Forget that. How do you know this?” Again the authority in his voice brought the others briefly to their senses. Again they were surprised by it.

Miss Susie leant forward. Sam knew he should feel concerned as he watched the amount of sparks and flashes from her fingers increase. Now they falling on his brother and starting to settle like a slight dusting of sparkling, glowing snowflakes, sprinkling his legs and torso. He looked like he was being covered in glitter, but glitter that somehow had a life and power of its own. Then, as the soft, soothing voice began again Sam returned to his trance.

“I know _all_ your life, my Dean. I’ve watched it all the way forward. And I’ve watched it all the way back. Now hush,” she tapped his nose with one of her good fingers, releasing a small flurry of sparks over his eyes and forehead, and knelt back. “Hush your tongue while I tell my story.

That became your life, didn’t it, boy? That and stealing. Anything to keep your brother fed. Had to do it: two growing boys couldn’t exist on what your daddy left you. And he knew it. Only got cross when you got caught stealing, didn’t he? ‘Letting him down.’ But it didn’t pay as well, did it boy? Mmm, you kept out of your backyard as it were. Went to neighbouring towns. Walked if you had to. Or got lifts. Put Sammy to bed and lock him in safe and out you’d go. Dangerous thing to do, Dean-boy.

Oh, now don’t you be cussing at me, boy!” She caught his look at her and shook her head at him: it wobbled slightly on her shoulders as she did. Then she sighed. “You tell them what you did to keep you two boys alive. Tell them how one man drove off in his car and just threw you out of it when he’d finished. And you’d walked back through the night, your leg all torn and bleeding. You still had that scar ‘til the day you died, didn’t you? Little brother never knew: you were in time to make him breakfast and see him to school and you went back and slept like the dead all day. Well, until your daddy came back. Caught you there. Called you out for being a lazy good-for-nothing waste of time. The beating he gave you that day, boy.” She shook her head again sadly. “It wasn’t right. Wasn’t right.”

“Enough now.” But Dean’s voice was sounded slightly slurred.

The onlookers tried to rouse themselves enough to look properly at him and realised that the glittering sparks were settling far more than before. They appeared to be absorbing into Dean’s skin through his clothes. And he was getting heavy-eyed. Sam wanted to make himself grab the shotgun and shoot the salt in it right through her, but he couldn’t make any of his limbs obey him. He could only listen to that voice as she continued.

“But what my brothers did to you. Oh, my beautiful Dean. _That_ wasn’t right either! They should never have touched you, but I’m so glad they did because they brought you to me. I’m ashamed for thinking that but it’s the truth. They brought you to me.

It must have been so frightening, realising there were three grown men in that truck, not just one. And they’d hurt you before they got home, hadn’t they? Got you between them. They couldn’t ever wait. They were such pigs. Always had been.

I’d been dead for nearly forty years by then. Still trapped. Still so afraid of them. My momma used to tell me to wait, to shut up and put up ‘cos they’d be afraid of me once she’d taught me. Every female in our family. All down the line, all gaining and gathering the powers as they seeped down from grandmother to aunt to cousin to niece to mother to daughter, all gathering in the last of the Duvrais line as the others passed on. I was the last, did’cha ever know that? Turned out the line ended with me. Momma wasn’t bothered about how my brothers treated me ‘cos I could get ‘em once I’d been taught.”

Her tone turned sarcastic, her battered face angry. “But she never had time. Always sorting out others first who could pay for her abilities. With me it was always ‘ask me another day Chile’. And then I found her with her throat slit. Never knew which of those pigs had done it. Sliced her open from behind. My daddy was long gone, who wants to live with a witch? And me dead barely four months later and buried beneath the chicken coop.”

She stopped talking abruptly. Smiled and moved closer to Dean, her hands finally moving from his face to either side of his neck. He didn’t seem to be fully awake somehow although his eyes were open and watching her. Sam and Bobby found themselves getting alarmed, but could do nothing but listen to the story being told.

“They’d got the taste for torture and killing from what they did to me though. All those boys, all those poor boys. And some girls, but they preferred boys. I afeared them even in death. I used to cry when they bought another home. I knew what was coming, knew I’d hear their screams, hear them gurgle and drown in their own blood. Or worse. Tormented all you children by calling them by my name. You were all ‘little Miss Susie’ as they raped you. Boys and girls. All given my accursed name. Mmm, my brothers would have terrified the Devil himself. They really would have.

And then they got you.”

The others saw Dean’s eyes glint towards her but through very heavy lids. Sam thought that he could see his brother’s body beginning to glow as he absorbed more and more of the glittery sparks that were still flying from her fingers. Then he was listening again as the story that he had been so desperate to know was finally told.

“Oh, my Dean, you were pretty banged up when they got you back to the house, weren’t you? They’d been going at you in the pick-up, hadn’t they? Already a good tally.” She indicated with her hand to Dean’s left side.

Sam felt a memory stir inside him, of scars that Dean used to have there. A series of cuts in groups of fives: scars that his brother used to dismiss as being ‘made by some animal or something, he couldn’t remember’. A series of tally scores, carved into his skin. Had it been two or three groups?

“They dragged you out of the truck. Threw you down into the cellar. That was when it usually all ended. All those poor children.” The despair in that extraordinary old powerful voice was overwhelming. “Got you up on the bench. Began heating up their toys in the fires. And went for you again.” She made sure Dean was directly looking at her. “I was there, boy. I was always there. I couldn’t do anything. I was too scared of them to do anything. But the moment I could pull your soul out and help you away from the pain. I would have been there.” He smiled at her, his open genuine smile again. Bobby wondered when he had last seen it before that day.

“But there was something different about you, my Dean-o. Something I could feel even then. Despite it all, everything they were doing to you, you were looking for a chance to escape. Waiting for that chance. I could see it in you. Feel that you were yielding your body deliberately to keep your mind clear enough for the chance.

And it came, didn’t it, boy? My little brother Clayton wanted the cattle brand. Bull, a stupid name for a stupid ignorant man, didn’t want to give it up. They left the knife unattended. Do you remember?“

She sat back a little, held up her hand and a knife materialised in it. A foot long, vicious, serrated down one edge, hunting knife. Even through the spell being cast, all the three onlookers winced as they saw it.

“Do you remember, my Dean-boy?”

He barely glanced at it. “I remember. Got well acquainted with it. I have the scars to prove it. Well,” he added, “I had.”

“That’s right!” Susie looked at him. “That’s right. That little Angel of yours wiped you all clean when he staked his claim, didn’t he? Only mark he left on _you_ was his own.” She hmphed, pursed her lips in obvious irritation. Gently she reached out and touched Dean on his chest just below his left collar bone. “Your brother still looks for that one, did he ever tell you? He misses it. The first time, besides your heart attack, that he really realised that he might have lost you.”

“How did she know that?” Sam thought. But she was right.

Jodie also came awake a little, “What was there?”

“A burn.” He felt like he was speaking underwater. “Deliberately from a poker. They were torturing him for fun when I got there.”

“Boy?”

They returned to their trance, just watching the scene in front of them. “Would you like me to put them back? As you should be, before your Angel came along?”

Bobby was wondering if Dean had fallen asleep, his eyelids were looking so heavy, but he answered the ghost witch immediately without having to consider. “Yeah. Don’t feel right without them, never has. But make sure all the new ones stay as well.” His voice had gone so low it was just a deep rumble but still his words were clear. But now all three of the watchers could see that his body was definitely starting to glow: it hadn’t just been Sam’s imagination. They were all getting worried about him but none of them could break the spell to stop whatever was happening.

She smiled at him. “Including your Angel’s?”

“Especially his.”

Even as he said the words, the erratic spray of sparks turned into a flow from her fingers, appearing more like rays of solid light of the palest, almost white, greeny-blue colour that touched all over Dean’s body and seemingly absorbed straight through his clothes and into his skin. There was a pause, the weight of the witch’s words seemingly lifting from the room a little as now all her attention was focused on Dean. Whatever she was doing to him, whatever she had come to the cabin to do, she was now doing it. For good or bad, she was doing it.

Nothing struck the watchers as being innocuous at first. Then there were suddenly flashes of brightness beneath Dean’s clothes that were so intense they were still dazzling even through the coverings. Some gave the impression of being long like lightning strikes, other smaller, just sudden abrupt flares that subsided as soon as they had appeared. One intense long lasting break out of light corresponded exactly where Sam remembered that terrible poker burn.

Susie held that vicious knife up a little and tilted it in her hand. Suddenly the sparks and flashes were pouring out from the end of it and straight onto Dean. The other three didn’t have to ask where he had been cut or how badly as they only had to follow the bright streams of the witch’s energy as she recreated all the scars that had told Dean’s life story on his body before Castiel had wiped them all away.

There were the tally scores: each of the three watchers found themselves quickly counting before the sudden bright streaks faded. “Thirteen.” Jodie wept a little. There were vicious wounds across his chest and stomach, and one really long wound that ran from his right shoulder right across his chest to the left side of his torso where he had obviously been slashed with the blade. A fifteen year old boy against three fully grown evil-minded men.

The magic poured off the witch and into Dean. He seemed to be growing aware of it: he was trying to shake his head, trying to wake himself up.

“What’cha doing to me, Miss Susie?”

“It’s alright, boy. You know I’d never hurt you, don’t you? You’re mine. All mine. Don’t you be afraid of me now boy. Not ever.”

He subsided slightly, lapsed back into himself. She stroked his face, smiled at him with love, smiled even more when he responded with a smile of his own.

“But I’ve got distracted from the story. That won’t do. Anyways they, my brothers, got into a fight over the brand iron. They’d have gone for your face with that, Dean-boy. Marked it bad. Taken your eyes. I’m glad they never got the chance.

You were looking at the knife. I could see you looking at the knife. I could see you thinking that if you could only get hold of it, you’d take your chance. And from somewhere I knew I had to get it to you. Oh, I was still such a little girl back then, been dead for forty years but still so afraid of them. But I was so determined to get you the knife.”

“You moved it straight to my hand.” His deep voice suddenly agreeing with her made the others start a little. They were all getting hypnotised by the witch’s voice again. “I knew I wasn’t alone there then. Gave me courage.”

“I got it to you, my Dean-o. I did it. And you nearly took your own finger off, you sliced at that rope so fast. You didn’t care though. You had your chance and you took it! You put that knife through Bull’s spine before he could turn. And Clayton sprayed you with his blood as you slit his throat in just one go. And the eldest, my eldest brother, Clem.” Her face showed her disgust as she thought of him. ”He squealed like a pig, didn’t he? Fell right over the old mangle and you were on him! He never got to put your hands through that mangle, did he Dean? Not that time. Not to _my_ boy! Just put a blade in your hands and watch you go, my Dean-boy. Nothing could stop you.”

Her face was full of pride as she watched him. Dean looked back at her. His body was still glowing, but Bobby frowned as he wondered if the magic was gradually seeping through Dean’s body to concentrate in a mass somewhere. His feet and legs seemed less bright, but his upper chest and especially his head were definitely getting brighter as if all the power was focusing on one specific spot. Then the next words were catching his attention again and he listened carefully.

“Do you remember what happened next?”

Dean nodded. “Still most nights in my dreams. Hell itself opened. And…. _they_ ran out. A whole pack of them. First time I’d ever seen Hellhounds. Not until I went to Hell myself. Got to know a lot about them there. Gutted a few of the bastards too. But there they were, a whole lot of goddamn frightening things. Your brother’s souls appeared, but black. Like they were already halfway to being demons. They screamed like banshees as those things tore them to pieces and dragged them down in the huge hole that had just …opened up! First time I ever smelt Hell as well. And heard the screams echoing up. In a strange way, I felt connected to it. Knew I’d be going there someday.” His face turned rueful. There were too many memories being brought up for him now.

Jodie whispered to Bobby. “Is he serious? About Hell?”

He sighed. “Dean sold his soul to save Sam a few years ago. He went to Hell. For forty or so years, it turned out because time runs different there. He’s actually older than I am. Was. An Angel called Castiel physically pulled him out and returned him to us.”

“This Angel they’ve been talking about?”

“Yep.”

“A real Angel?”

“Yep.”

She stared at him, her mouth open. But Miss Susie was speaking to Dean again, agreeing with him as they both remembered that day.

“Mmm, they sure were frightening things, those Hellhounds. Terrified me. Even though I hated my brothers and they deserved what they got, I was terrified of those monstrous things. I was sure they’d come for me next. Never crossed my mind then that they’d ever come for you! Not my Dean. And you knew what would be coming. Did you ever tell your brother that? That you knew exactly what would be coming for you?”

Dean shook his head but didn’t respond. The ghost witch leant forward confidentially. “Did you realise Alistair brought the three of them to your rack in Hell, boy? Did you recognise them?” Dean looked up fully and stared at her, his eyes wide.

Now Sam also started as he could see what Bobby had noticed, that Dean’s eyes were starting to glow as if all the power that Miss Susie was feeding into his body was congregating in his head. The normally vivid natural green of Dean’s eyes were being over-ruled and replaced by the pale but bright colour of the spirit. And still the witch was pumping her sparks of whatever into him, her fingers were still flashing and spitting flakes of magical energy at his body, hundreds more, thousands more, every moment she was there. Sam knew he had to stop this, but couldn’t move.

“My, yes.” The ghost was nodding at his brother. “Alistair made sure to bring them to you. Never let them turn, wanted to keep them for you. Wanted to turn _you_. That’s why you never got any peace. Even less than all the others down there. It was vital to them that _you_ be broken. Even the Angels wanted that, boy. You didn’t stand a chance once they got you down there. Nothing to feel guilty about. But that Alistair: he got you so close, didn’t he? Just a few more years...

Angel or Demon: you’d make a damn fine one of either. And they know it. They’ll try again, boy. They surely will. So don’t you let ’em.

Anyways,” as she returned to her story. “There we were, weren’t we, Dean-boy? You were left in that cellar. You bleeding everywhere, you could hardly stand. And I. I finally got the courage to show myself. I finally could let someone see me. Do you remember what you said to me? Do you boy?”

He looked embarrassed and put his head down, not meeting her eyes. She smiled and reached to take his face in her hands again.

“I remember, my Dean. You looked at me, there was blood dripping from the bottom of your jeans. You’d grabbed for them fast enough, even though they were ripped to hell but you had nuttin to be embarrassed about! Not to me. But you were bleeding still so badly. And you looked at _me_ and you looked so sad and you said .....”

“Whatever did they do to _you_ , Miss Susie?” He finished her sentence for her. “I knew who you were the instant you appeared.”

“You _did_ , you did, boy.” She was delighted at him. “The sweetest, kindest words I ever had spoken to me my whole life. My kind, caring Dean. You were worried about me! Thought of me! Sweetest words of my whole life. From a dying boy.”

“I didn’t die, Miss Susie.” His eyes were definitely glowing now. He wasn’t looking human anymore. The unease in Sam and Jodie’s stomachs was growing as it seemed to all of them that he was somehow being forced to absorb the witch’s power and he wasn’t even aware of it. And such was the strength of the magic in that cabin, they were helpless to stop it.

“No you didn’t. You were strong. You weren’t going to give them the satisfaction of being another victim. Not _that_ day. Not _there_. You went rummaging around and you found enough stuff to patch yourself up. Put a few stitches in your chest, I remember. And then you set to, didn’t you, Dean-o. You dragged those bodies outside, all three of them. Burnt them. Said they’d never be able to come back. Not ever. I remember watching your face by the flames. I was so proud of you, my Dean.

And then you looked around. They were all coming weren’t they, boy? All the children were coming. To watch their murderers burn. Do you remember, Dean-boy?”

“Yes ma’am. Course I do.” His voice was now low. Sam knew that he was seeing this in his head as he spoke. “All those kids. Frightened little kids who hadn’t been able to pass over.”

“Some were older than _you_.” She smiled at him.

His eyes were now glowing so brightly that they were hurting the others when they tried to look at them. “You were just a kid. And although I’d watched my brothers and their evil ways over the years, I’d never realised how many they’d killed. So many children. I couldn’t count them all. Could you, my Dean?”

He nodded. “Thirty-seven.”

She sighed. “Thirty-seven. I never knew....”

“But.” Sam and Bobby managed to find their voices at the same time. “The article said.....”

“Four decades of them torturing and killing. That was all they found remains of. All that they could prove.”

This was the first time that Miss Susie had addressed any words to anyone in the room besides Dean, but she didn’t turn her head. She never once took her eyes of him. His eyes were now as bright as two tiny white suns although he didn’t seem aware of it. The rest of his body had ceased glowing now. She had ceased sending sparks from her fingers any more. Whatever she had done, it was nearly complete.

Sam stumbled to ask while he could speak, afraid that the witch would stop him again. “What are you doing to him?” He was still too much under her spell to even sound as angry as he was feeling.

“Nothing for _you_ to worry about, Sam Winchester. Although if you ever hold him down in his bed against his will again, then you and I are going to have words that you will not like, do I make myself clear?”

Sam winced, looked worriedly at Bobby and Jodie who stared at him without very pleasant expressions. “I....”

His stomach turned at her next words addressed to him. “He was _mine_ before you ever even thought of him as yours. And he will be mine _long_ after. Never forget that. _Boy_.” The sudden malice in the ancient voice caused them all to shiver.

Then the witch ghost was leaning forward, her lips coming close to Dean’s face. Her fingers snapped and the glow in his eyes began to fade at the signal. He seemed to come to, as if he had momentarily not been in his own head. He most certainly wouldn’t have heard her words to Sam. Miss Susie held his head tight as he tried to blink it away.

“Dean? Tell them about the children. Where they all came from.” Her voice was like the sweetest molasses again.

He stared blankly at her for a moment. Then his thoughts shifted to that day and he began to tell them in a matter-of fact tone that was more horrifying than anything else could have been.

“Where didn’t they come from? Some rose from where they’d been buried, all ripped and mutilated and burnt. One little girl climbed up from down the well. Those monsters didn’t drink that water, did they Miss Susie?”

“My brothers did indeed, Dean-boy. They say it tasted the same as what they’d roasted.”

He flinched but carried on describing the poor lost, murdered spirits that he had seen that day. Describing them in such a way that it was obvious to his brother, uncle and friend that he was still seeing them clearly in his head even some twenty years later.

“A few struggled out of the cellar. Now you’ve explained the missing parts. Others from down the trail to the house, gathering all their pieces up from where they’d been dragged apart behind the truck. That one...” He stopped speaking suddenly as he relived something terrible in his mind.

“I know, my poor Dean. I know. I cry for him as well. But you tell them. Make them understand.”

Dean sighed. He didn’t seem to be looking at even the ghost now. All his thoughts were focused internally, back to the truly horrendous events that he had witnessed and kept hidden for so long. But she had given him an order, so he answered mechanically.

“They’d put him through the wood chipper.”

Jodie felt as if she was going to be sick. The faces on the two men beside her didn’t look any better.

“He was alive when they did. I still have nightmares, I hear his screams above all the others.” Miss Susie was also upset about it.

“It was just pieces....mulch.” Dean’s eyes, now fully returned to normal, were filling with tears. “And it all came together. Built itself back up into a shape. Couldn’t work out what it was at first. Then.” He stopped, tried to pull his head out of Susie’s hands but she held firm. Eventually he just whispered to her: “He couldn’t have been more than twelve years old.”

“I know boy, I know.”

There was a pause while Dean struggled with his memories. “We had to wait for some. They had to find their way back from the swamps. Waited a long time but they came.”

“But.” Jodie struggled to make her voice strong enough to be heard, but she wanted to know. “How did you know when they were all there?"

“The others told me. Told me we had to wait.”

“They spoke to you?”

He shrugged. “The trapped always do. Ever since then.”

“The trapped?”

Miss Susie finally turned her head in acknowledgement of somebody else being in the room. The two females in the room stared straight at each other.

“It’s impo’tant for those of us that were trapped by a bad death. Not all turn mad. Some just get forgotten. It’s impo’tant that somebody knows we existed, that we once had names, weren’t just some....nothings. Our remains to be put to rest if possible. That’s all most want. Just to move on. My Dean,” she added proudly. “He’ll help. If he can. He’s _my_ boy!”

“Then why the hell couldn’t you hear me, son?” Bobby was grumbling at Dean despite his worry over what was happening in that cabin. “Could have saved me a lot of time.”

“It’s only the forgotten need to ask for help, Bobby. And _you’ll_ never be forgotten.” Bobby surprised them all by snuffling noisily at Dean’s response. “Often just someone knowing their name gives the release they need. Only needs to be whispered. Only right to hear it.”

“Why were they at the swamp?” Jodie had many more questions. They were all beginning to escape the effects of the spell. All except Dean.

“Gator bait.” He said it like he could have been ordering a cup of coffee in a diner. “Staked down alive to be torn to pieces. They struggled back with what they could, some carrying what was left of the others. They all came. We waited for them all. It was important to wait.”

He stopped and thought for a moment. “There were some that had been secreted inside the house itself. One girl came out mummified, said they’d kept her to play with even after death. A boy came out without....” He stopped talking abruptly as a memory of something even worse than a wood chipper came to his mind. Miss Susie’s full attention was back on him now but this time she didn’t make him continue, she just bowed her head in sadness.

“They all came back.” He finally announced. “We waited for them all. It was important they be allowed to finally pass on from that place.”

“And you let them, didn’t you, my Dean?”

He shrugged. “It just happened. I wasn’t sure how to, but it did anyway.”

“ _No_ Dean-boy. You did something. I heard you. You don’t remember?” She leant forward, close to his face again. The watchers in the kitchenette all stained their ears to listen.

He looked at her blankly. She smiled at him. “You asked God to help you to help them. You asked Him. And He did as you asked. He opened the gates, do you remember?”

Dean wasn’t convinced. He was sounding exhausted now and his voice was beginning to slur again. “I remember the light. I remember all those kids, all those mutilated spirits suddenly becoming whole and unhurt again as they should have been, all smiling, all thanking me as they moved towards it. But I didn’t do nothing.”

“You did, boy. You _did_. And He was listening. And once they’d all gone, the light was still there and I was wondering why, well boy, do you remember what you said?”

Dean nodded. “I asked if you were going through because it was waiting for you.”

“You did.” Even without her teeth, her smile for him was so open and full of love. “You knew it was for me. Because you’d asked for me to be allowed to enter Heaven too.” He didn’t seem to understand what she was meaning. Sam was getting more and more worried about him. ”My kind don’t go to Heaven, Dean-boy. You’d just seen where my kind ended up.”

“But _you_ hadn’t hurt anyone, ma’am.”

“No. But that doesn’t usually follow, does it boy? You should know that better than anyone. But you’d asked for me to be allowed. And He was letting me. You aren’t aware that He watches you, are you, boy?”

Dean blinked. They all did. “He? You mean....”

“God. Yes. He watches you. Always has. Mmm, I know you don’t believe in Him, but He sure believes in _you!_ He allowed me into Heaven that day because you asked Him to.” She paused to make sure she had his now flagging attention for her next words. “He let your girl in because you asked Him to. Remember how you asked as you held her body? He let her in as well.”

Dean caught his breath and stared at her. “Emma? She’s in Heaven?”

“She is, Dean-boy. Cos you asked Him to allow it. He let your little girl in. She’s with me! I got to Heaven, do you know what my happy memories were? You, my beautiful Dean, You! I didn’t have any of my own. Not with what I am. Not with my life. So I asked Him if my happiness could be you! And He let me. And I’ve watched your entire life, forwards and back. And now Emma’s with me. And we’ll wait, boy. Wait for you to join us. But you take your time, ‘cos there’s a long way for you to go yet.”

“Who’s Emma?” Jodie whispered to Sam, who had been dreading the question the moment the girl had been mentioned. He sighed.

“Dean’s daughter. I shot her dead. I thought, I still think, she was going to kill him.”

Jodie gasped loudly. “Dean has a daughter?”

“It’s a long story.”

“And you killed her, Sam?”

He wilted under Jodie’s expression. “I’ll explain later.”

He didn’t want to. Ever.

They hushed as they realised Dean and Miss Susie were still talking.

“You really speaking about God?”

“Mmm, He’s there, boy. Always has been. Despite what you think. You’ve just got to know where to look. You asked for me to be allowed. And I was. Me! To Heaven! To you as my Heaven! I’m so proud of you, my Dean. You’ve done bad, you know you have. And you will do again, you won’t help it. But you’ve done so much good and that outweighs it. Always will as long as you keep trying to do good. Even when tempted to do bad. And I know you will. ‘Cos you’re my _Dean_. You’ll come home to your little girl and me in the end.

But I never finished my story.

So all the children went through. And I went through. And that left you all alone. Still battered, but outright defiant. It wasn’t your time! Took you damn near three days to get back to your motel. You walked the whole way, avoided everyone and everything. But you were so determined. You found a payphone and called the police to tell them about that house on the way. At least some of the poor parents would have answers. Once you’d got back, you slept one entire day, then had the last one to tidy yourself up and hide the pain and the bruises before your brother returned. Not that he noticed: he was far too excited about his trip. Didn’t care that you were having difficulty breathing or stringing two words together in a row and were peeing blood for an entire month.

Your daddy wondered though, didn’t he, when he finally returned a week later? Decided it was time that you should go and learn the job properly. Made you go with him. Shame because he beat your natural niceness out of you, caused you to just kill without asking whether they were really monsters or not simply just different. Taken you a lot of years to relearn what you had already known anyway. Your damned daddy. But I suppose it stopped you taking such risks going out. I was glad about that. Not that your family don’t always appreciate the money, whichever way you get it for them.”

Sam flinched suddenly as he realised that that part was meant for him. And despite himself he began to wonder: when _had_ Dean ever stopped getting money that way? Did he even still have to do so? It had only been the last few months that Sam could say with any real certainty that he knew where Dean was at night. Or at least, most of them.

But as he looked across at his brother with yet more questions beginning to burn in his chest, they all dissipated as he saw Dean’s face. He looked exhausted as well as haunted by some truly horrific memories that he, Sam, had insisted on stirring up for him. Plus God knows what that witch had been doing to him: she had certainly been doing something. To them all, as none of the three, even Bobby, could have moved from the small kitchenette they’d been standing all this time in if they’d tried. But he was most worried about his brother.

He felt real relief as the ghost kissed Dean’s forehead tenderly in farewell. “We’ll be waiting for you, my Dean-boy. But don’t you hurry now. You hear me?”

“Bye Miss Susie.” Dean’s eyes were definitely glazing over immediately after that kiss. “Give Emma a hug from me. Tell her I’m on my way.”

“Oh, Boy." She tutted at him. "Don’t you _dare_.”

She leant forward again and this time did touch her bruised and battered lips to his. “You sleep now. I’m always there with you, boy: you just keep remembering that. And keep on doing good. Bye. My Dean.”

And with that her form flickered and was gone.

There was total silence in the cabin for a few minutes.

Then: “Jesus!” Jodie sat down abruptly on the floor where she had been standing for so long.

Sam and Bobby felt the same. They had caused this. They had put Dean through this. Sam’s legs felt wobbly and he also felt the need to sit down. Whatever that ghost, witch, whatever she had been: she was obviously very powerful. Death hadn’t altered that. In fact from what she had been saying, death had had very much the opposite effect.

Sam shook himself bodily, feeling the last of whatever the containing spell had been fall away from him. He hurried to his brother’s side and knew immediately that something was wrong.

“Shit!” his outburst brought the other’s heads around.

“Sam?”

But he was already shaking Dean, trying to get him awake. “Dean? Dean! Come on! Wake up! Jodie! Get his hands!”

She was already there. Now she and Bobby could see why Sam was getting frantic. Dean’s eyes were open but he obviously wasn’t behind them.

“Is he breathing?”

“Yes. And I can feel a pulse. But he’s not waking up, Jodie!”

She had by this time undone the handcuffs from round Dean’s wrists. They all winced as they saw the deep bloody welts that the hard metal had caused the last few days opened up again. “Get him up on the sofa.”

“I’ll get some water.”

“And smelling salts! Anything you can think of to try and get him out of this.”

“Should we take him to the hospital?”

“We can’t risk it. Those things found him at the last one.”

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know, Sam. I’m gonna patch those wounds up. You just keep trying to get him back from wherever she's put him.”

It seemed a long time and a lot of pinching, shaking, splashing with cold water and yelling at him before Dean finally and shakily stirred.

Not much, but enough to focus on his relieved brother. “What?” He didn’t seem to know where he was, or what had just happened, and his voice was rough and very slurred, making him sound extremely drunk or majorly concussed.

“You okay? Dean. Talk to me!”

“Head hurts.”

It was all he could say. But it was at least words, of a sort.

Sam could feel his frustration at his brother build again. “For fuck’s sake! Why couldn’t you just tell us this?” He rubbed his hands through his long hair in frustration and yelled at Dean. “Why did you let us put you through this? I know how horrible your life has been, because of dad and because of me. I feel sick that you had to sell yourself to keep me alive. Especially when I’ve been such an ungrateful little shit most of the time!

But _this_? It’s not your fault you were raped by these human monsters Dean. It’s not your fault! Why wouldn’t you just answer my questions? Why go through this? Why not just talk to me. How can anybody be angry at you about _this_?”

He walked away. Felt himself begin to cry. God, what had he done to Dean? Because of him, Sam: _he_ had brought that....thing....back to his brother. And she had done something that probably wasn’t good. He had stood and watched her do something to him and hadn’t been able to stop it. What the hell had she done? If he had just left it alone as Dean had begged him to? God, why did Sam always, always mess everything up where Dean was concerned. And why did Dean always have to suffer because of it?

But why, why, _why_ wouldn’t Dean had just told him? What was so terrible about his treatment at the hands of those three sadists that he had refused, point blank refused to talk about it at all to either his brother or his uncle? Embarassment? He had nothing to be embarrassed about! What was it that he had felt determined to keep silent about? He rounded on his still all-but-comatose brother again.

“What the _hell_ was so vitally important about that secret that you were prepared to go through this rather than reveal it?”

Bobby glanced at him and sighed: he was still trying to get Dean to focus on him for more than a moment or two at a time.

It was Jodie who reluctantly answered him.

“Because it’s distracting you from asking about the other secret, Sam. And that’s the one that he’s terrified about you knowing.”

Both Bobby and Sam stared at her blankly.

Jodie kept her head down and sighed. “This is the worst thing about being a cop.” She stared up at Sam’s desperate expression, indicated for Bobby to get out of the way so she could kneel in front of Dean and take his face in her hands. Gently but firmly she forced Dean to focus on her.

“Hey Dean! How’s it going?” Her voice was overly bright and very loud. “Hey! You in there?” She put her face closer to his. “Come back and talk to me, Dean.”

Slowly he responded, gradually returning from wherever he had been in his mind. He frowned. “Jodie? What are you doing here?”

Jodie batted Sam away with her hand as he started to exclaim at his brother, and gave all her attention back to Dean. “Oh! I just dropped by! I’ve got a question for you Dean. I need you to answer it. It’s important that you do. Okay?”

She wasn’t sure if he was even listening, none of them were, but slowly he nodded, still being held upright with her hands on his face.

“Okay. Just concentrate for a moment, okay? She made sure he was still focused on her. “It’s a simple question, Dean.” She took a breath and hated herself for doing this to him. “How old were you when your daddy first raped you?”

There was a sharp intake of breath from both brothers and an attempt at a gasp by Bobby, but it was only Dean’s reaction that she was interested in. He flinched, despite the state he was in and tried to pull out of her hands, trying desperately to turn away from her intense gaze.

Behind her Sam gasped. “Don’t be stupid! He’d never....” and then it all became clear as the obvious hit him. Dean had been desperate for him to stop asking. Had been really so much more desperate than Sam could fathom. He would only do that, be so completely irrationally..... _irrational_ if he was protecting someone desperately with everything he had. And the only person in the entire world apart from Sam, that he would protect like that even if they had done something completely disgustingly terrible, was their father.

He felt stunned. He looked at Bobby for support and saw the same stunned look returned to him in the older man’s eyes. The thought hadn’t occurred to either of them. And it should have. Oh God, it should have.

Jodie was still waiting for Dean’s response. She wished she hadn’t recognised what that spirit had been trying to hint at without saying it outright, but she had. And she understood the witch, ghost, thing’s desire that this had to come out. It was time for the truth, for this poor man in front of her who had buried this shame unfairly for so long if for nothing else. Especially after that afternoon of discovering all he had been through. It was time for secrets like this, that should have never been his in the first place, to be let go of.

All this was going through her head while she was waiting for him to answer her. She knew that she had to make him answer, despite the state he was in. She waited until he had no choice but to meet her eyes again. Finally he did, accepted that she was going to outlast him in this particular battle of wills and dropped his gaze to the floor.

“He never raped me.” It was a mumble, but they were all listening intently. ”He just missed mom, that’s all.”

“How old were you when he started to miss her like that?” He tried not to meet her eyes again, but she gave his head a small shake and made him look up. “How old were you, Dean?”

He looked down again. “Bout eight. Bout then.”

“Sweet Jesus!” Jodie started as Bobby couldn’t help himself. He had to get up and walk out of the small room, walked right through the main entrance door he was so agitated. Sam also got up and walked around, his hands in his hair, his face absolutely.... as a face that had just had every illusion about a hero shattered to pieces would look.

But Jodie was now in Sherriff mode. She gently released Dean's face, giving him a huge hug instead. The she crossed to where Sam was standing, his eyes glinting with tears. She could have cried with him on seeing his face.

“You had no idea, did you?”

“None! I. I had issues with the man. God, I had issues with the man. And I know he beat Dean sometimes though it was really rare that he laid a finger on me. I suppose that was Dean as well, taking the heat off me. Distracting any attention. But this. I never.... how could he do it, Jodie? Everything Dean’s done, everything he’s been made to give up. And he....? How could he do it? And why, God, why didn’t I know? I should have known. I should have helped him, protected him somehow.”

“That’s a lot of questions Sam. And I can’t answer them. But right now he needs you. He’s not fully there in his head, Sam. I don’t know what that thing did to him, but you have to look after him first before you can collapse. Okay?”

He nodded. It was obvious to her that he had never suspected this at all, the thought of it had never even crossed his mind. She wished, she so wished that she had been wrong.

“When did he last eat?”

Sam tried to shake off his own thoughts and think rationally for a moment. “We haven’t let him eat since we got here. So well over two days ago. We wouldn’t let him to try and force him to talk to us. I’m sorry, Jodie.”

“Nothing you’ve got to be sorry about. And absolutely nothing for _him_ to be sorry about. That’s going to be the most important _and_ the most difficult thing to get through to him. Although now I think about it, you kissing him the way you did earlier. And what that witch said about you holding him down....”

Sam blushed furiously and couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Hmm.” She frowned at him. “Well, after learning about forty years in Hell, and Angels, and Bobby being a ghost, and witches and travelling through time and everything, perhaps that isn’t so abnormal for you two as it should be. And he sure seemed to be happy after it and with what you said in his ear. But don’t make a habit of it when I’m around, will you?”

“We won’t. I mean.” Sam stopped himself, unsure of what to say. Jodie smiled at him.

“Okay. Try and get him with us a bit more. I’m still worried about him. No more questions though.” This was an order that came with a frown. “He’s had enough. I’ll try and find something for him to eat.”

She paused. “He’s going to be damaged Sam.” He looked at her, the tears still obvious in his eyes and his face deathly pale. “He’s been forced to remember things that he obviously didn’t want to. Look at the state of him. You’ve got to look after him now.”

“I caused this. “ Sam whispered sadly. “I couldn’t let it go.”

“I couldn’t either.” Bobby had returned, his face somehow shining and grubby as if tears had been hastily scrubbed at with dirty but unreal sleeves. “But Jodie’s right. He’s got to come first now. _We_ can fall apart later.”


	17. The Aftermath

Dean woke up and groaned. He hadn’t had such a hangover for years. In fact, he couldn’t ever remember having such a bad hangover. His head felt like someone had been physically stirring his brain around in his head with something sharp and had just left all the pieces floating free and bouncing around in the space inside his skull. He frowned and decided not to try and move. But. He couldn’t remember drinking. In fact, he couldn’t remember anything. He started to sweat as he desperately tried to. What was his name? It took him a long moment, but there it was: Dean Winchester. That was his name. He was sure of it. Start with that.

The rest quickly returned, as if some of the pieces in his head had formed the correct connection once he had given them the starting point. He lay still, grimacing with the pain in his head, but just letting the memories return: some good but not many, most not good, some really terrible. But at least they were there, and his.

Finally he could remember pretty well up to yesterday. The last clear thing he could recall was being handcuffed with his hands behind him to the chair in the basement. He could remember digging out that large splinter of wood from the back of the chair with his nails to pick the cuffs with. He carefully rubbed his finger across his other hand as he lay: he could definitely feel part of the splinter still embedded in it, so that at least must be true. That had really happened. But after that. After escaping the basement, everything in his mind felt fuzzy.

Okay. Try not to think about it. Think about something else. Like, he was so hot. Why was he so hot? It was an effort to even move his head it was hurting him so much, but he tried to look around so he could establish where he was now. Not in the basement anyway. He was lying flat on a bed. Where was he?

It took him a long moment to recognise that he was actually lying fully clothed, apart from his boots, in one of the single beds in Rufus’s old cabin. Fuck, why was his head hurting so much? Even just turning it a little had sent waves of pain running through him. Oh, that was why he was hot.

Sam was beside him in the small bed. More than beside him: he was wrapped around him. Dean could feel the weight of his leg over his own, and his brother’s arms were holding him so tight to his own chest that even if Dean’s own head would have let him, he couldn’t have moved. But he was so hot: he needed to get away from Sam’s full-on oven temperature-like body heat before he ignited and went up in flames like.....like something that he suddenly didn’t want to think about.

Okay Dean. Concentrate on getting off the bed. Carefully he tried. Tried to loosen Sam’s grip around his back of his neck and shoulders, tried to ease that long orang-utan arm off his chest. And as he did, Sam’s eyes opened as if he hadn’t been asleep at all but had instead just been lying there waiting for him to wake up.

Dean flinched at the look in his brother’s eyes. It was the look that he’d come to dread most. Sam’s eyes were angry, revengeful, single-minded. It was the look that he’d had for so long when Dean had been snatched back from Hell. Sam was too much like their father: desire for revenge would rule him and ruin him. He would forget and ignore the day to day pleasures, and concentrate all his attention on something, anything that would get him to the desired target of eliminating the pain. But it only ever made more. Dean felt fear prickle inside him at that look. But he couldn’t think, or simply couldn’t remember, who it could be that Sam was that angry at this time. He hoped it wasn’t him: no, if it were him he’d be dead, not lying here next to Sam. But who was it?

And then Sam blinked and his entire expression changed. His eyes filled full of love and he was smiling so sweetly, just for Dean. Dean felt himself smiling back. Sam rolled himself forward, using his tight grip around Dean’s body to bring himself on top of his brother.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, gentle, full of anxiety. “You okay?”

Dean stared up into his eyes, tried to respond to the soft kiss that was seeking his lips to part, but he had to pull away. “My head is.... What happened? How are we here? Like this?”

Sam carefully moved back to lay at his side. “You had a ..... well, whatever it was, you collapsed. Bobby told me to bring you in here and stay with you until you woke up.” He chuckled. “He didn’t say I shouldn’t be in the bed with you!”

The laughter should have been music to Dean’s ears, but oh shit, the noise of it hurt his head. He groaned and put his hand up to the spot where it pounded the most. There. Just above the bit right between his eyes. Even just touching his head, he thought that part of him felt hotter than the rest. Although he was still too hot everywhere.

Sam watched him with concern. “You okay?”

“My head’s banging. Really banging. I’ve never known anything like it. And I’m so hot.”

Sam was immediately getting out of the bed. “I’ll get you some water and some pain-killers. And Bobby has been pacing outside for ages. How a ghost can make so much noise, I’ll never know. I’ll let him know you’re awake.” He disappeared through the door. Dean could hear voices and the older man was suddenly there at his side with a worried look on his face.

“You okay, boy? You really frightened us, you know.”

I’m sorry, Bobby.” It was Dean’s automatic response to everything. Bobby sighed at him.

“You don’t _need_ to be sorry, boy. You couldn’t help it! Just get better and don’t do it again. I don’t want either of you joining me for a long time.”

If it were possible for a ghost to lose colour, Bobby paled as Dean winced again and put his hand to his head. Sam was back with a glass of water. They could both see that Dean was struggling, really struggling to raise himself up enough to take it, his head was causing him that much pain. They exchanged anxious looks, then Sam knelt and helped Dean up enough so he could get hold of the glass without tipping it all over himself. Sam silently handed him the tablets he had also brought and Dean swallowed them.

“Hand me that other pillow.” Bobby floated it from the other bed and Sam used it to prop Dean up slightly and sat on the mattress beside him. “So. How you feeling? Apart from your head, that is?”

“What happened? I don’t.....”

“What do you remember?”

“Nothing.” The other two men stared at each other with worry. “I can remember breaking out of the basement yesterday. Setting off running. That damn gazelle of a brother of mine chasing me down and flattening me.” He tried to grin at Sam, but couldn’t contain the wince as his head pounded at the just that small movement. Again he tried to ease it from the outside with the heel of his hand. Again he missed the concerned look that the others shared. “But after that. Nothing. It’s all fuzzy.”

“That was three days ago, Dean.” Sam’s voice was so quiet he almost missed the words.

“Three days? Ouch.” Again his hand to his head as he had tried to move. “But. What happened? What did I do? Bobby?” He turned to the older man’s spirit anxiously.

“Nothing, boy. You didn’t do nothing. Don’t you go worrying about anything like that. You just... had a turn and frightened the crap out of us, that’s all. Now. You just lie there and go back to sleep if you can. Perhaps that head of yours will be better when you wake up again. Sam, can I have a word?”

The tall young man followed him out of the room as he flickered away in a heartbeat. Dean could hear whispering, but the effort of trying to listen was too much. All he was aware of was the pain inside his head and....three days. What had he done this time that he had to make up for? Oh shit, his head hurt so much.

Sam returned into the room, closing the door behind him. He came and lay on the bed besides Dean. “This okay? Or I can go over there if you’d prefer.”

“No. Stay.”

Sam reached and pulled his brother over into his arms again. He had lain for a long time, near enough the whole three days, waiting for Dean to come properly out of that almost waking coma, and he was still really worried. What had she done to him? But he said nothing, instead he just nuzzled Dean’s neck with his lips. “Go back to sleep. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m so hot.” Dean again tried to sit up so he could strip some of his layers off. Again the agony of his head nearly overwhelmed him. He felt he was going to black out with the pain: he just wanted it to stop.

Sam helped him in silence until he was down to his t-shirt. “Do you want your jeans off as well?"

But even that small effort had been too much, and Dean shook his head, or rather he tried to before again clutching at it in pain and collapsing back on the bed. Sam studied him as he lay with his eyes closed trying to control himself. God, Dean looked exhausted. What had that bitch done to him? How could he have let her have him?

He lay back beside his brother, “May I come under the covers with you?”

Dean nodded, winced, didn’t open his eyes. As an afterthought Sam removed his top layers as well before joining his brother. He should have thought of that before: Dean was always hot in bed even without being ill. Carefully he snuggled upto his brother’s side and placed his arm over his chest, trying to hold him without giving him too much extra heat.

There was silence in the room for a long time. Sam lay and watched Dean: all the stresses of the last few days had left marks on his face. He had lines even in rest that hadn’t been there just a few short months ago. That was Sam’s fault. Because he just couldn’t leave things alone. Even if it meant Dean paid the price for it.

He had thought his brother had gone back to sleep and was surprised when he noticed Dean’s eyes were open and he was just staring at the ceiling. “You okay?”

“Why can’t I remember? What’s happened, Sammy?”

He hugged Dean tighter and kissed his neck. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Hmph.” But he didn’t pull away from Sam’s arms.

They lay in further silence. Sam just watched Dean try to remember. Fuck, if all those images and memories that witch-ghost had summoned up three days ago were still floating around in his brother’s head, then no wonder he was confused. Sam found himself hoping he _wouldn’t_ remember, or at least not all of it.

Dean frowned with the effort and flinched as another jolt of pain seared through his brain. It felt like something was physically attacking him with a hammer now, but from the inside of his skull trying to get out of his head. He again tried to ease it with a rub from his hand, but it wasn’t really helping. Neither had the tablets.

He knew Sam was watching him closely so he tried to put a smile on his face for him. “Stop staring at me.”

Sam raised himself up on his elbow and leant over his brother. He removed Dean’s hand from where it was desperately pressing against that place that the pain seemed to be worse and replaced it with his lips. As he gently nuzzled and licked against Dean’s forehead just above and between his eyes, he noticed that it seemed to be very warm. Warmer than the rest of that area. Memories of Dean’s eyes glowing with such intense unnatural brightness made him worry even more.

Then Dean was flinching again and pushing him away. “Not helping.”

“Sorry.”

“Didn’t mean to be horrible. Just. If you want to go and do something, then I’m okay. I just need to work out what happened.”

“I know,” He lay back down and pulled Dean gently up off the bed enough that he could get his arm around and under his neck and hold him close. “I’m staying here as long as that’s okay with you.”

He didn’t expect an answer, didn’t care that he didn’t get one. He knew to just stay quiet and wait.

“So.” Dean was more talking out loud to himself than to his brother. “I remember running. I. Dammit, why can’t I remember?”

“It’ll come. Don’t try and force it. Think about something else.”

“Like what?” Dean snapped a little at him and immediately felt guilty. “Sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I mean it,” as Dean managed to turn his head towards him. “You’ve done nothing to be worried about. Just relax, it will happen on its own. Just think about something else.”

Dean looked at him for a long moment: Sam didn’t like the look, he wondered what Dean was thinking about now. Carefully Dean turned his head back so he could look at the ceiling again. He didn’t speak, but Sam could feel himself getting tense as he waited: what had that look been about?

“Who have you got your revenge face on for?” Sam blinked, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but it wasn’t that.

“What?”

“Your revenge face. Your ‘I’m going to destroy this thing even if I give everything and lose everyone while I’m doing it’ face. Shit, my head!” Again the hammering pain, again his hand came up to it.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Yes he did really. How did Dean know?

“Don’t give me that!” Dean was pushing on his forehead, but he was angry and turning to Sam. “I saw your face when I woke up. Who are you so mad at that you’re lying there plotting how to find them and kill them? Come on, who?”

Sam was really taken aback. “It’s nothing. I’m just….cross at someone for something. Forget it, Dean.”

Why had his words been the wrong answer? Dean quietened, still rubbing his head, and just stared at him. “It’s something to do with me again, isn’t it? That’s why you, neither of you, will tell me what’s happened yesterday....since three days ago. Has something been done to me? Whatever it is, Sam, just tell me.”

“Why would you think it’s something to do with you?” Sam could feel his own temper rising now.

“Because it was last time. I could understand with Jess, that made sense. But with me, and Lileth, that was your damned possessiveness of me doing it. You had to have your revenge on her at all costs. It nearly was at all costs. And you had that face on again when I woke up.”

“Dean, you’re being stupid.”

“Am I? Then tell me what’s happened these last three days! Actually no! You just listen! If it is to do with me, then just forget it! Because, just like Lileth, if it’s something been done to me then it’s not your revenge to take.”

“If someone hurts you, then I’m going to kill them!” The words were out before Sam could think about them. “It is my revenge if you…..” He paused, tried to make himself calm down. Dean had only just awakened after being completely out of it for all that time, he could hardly move with the pain in his head where that fucking bitch had poured her magic into him, Sam was so angry at her for doing that to him that he was going to….he could hardly speak. “You’re my brother. First and foremost. If someone hurts you they answer to me.”

“That’s dad talking. He dragged us behind him through our lives to get revenge on that yellow-eyed bastard for what? He died before he could do it and it turned out that mom had caused it all by making the deal with the damn thing anyway! She caused all of this! I love her to pieces, but she caused all of this. And you got that look in your eyes about Jess and went after it as well. Okay I understand that. She was what your life should have been, what you really truly wanted. I get that. I got it then.

But when you obsessed about Lileth because of what she did to me? That was my deal! My fault! And somehow I got away with it, ended up back here. Well I damn well know why now: fucking angels, but if anyone should have gone after Lileth it should have been me not you. It wasn’t your revenge to take. It was mine and I didn’t want it: I was just happy to be alive. But you and your damned single-minded face…..Who is it now? Who you going after now? Because if it’s to do with me, then I don’t want it, whatever it is then I don’t want you going after revenge. It’s not yours to take!”

Sam was stunned. Where had that come from? Of course he was going to protect his brother. Of course he was going to look after him, even if Dean couldn’t see that he needed looking after. And of course, if anyone hurt Dean then Sam was damn well going to hurt them back. _Hard_. With or without his brother’s backing. But Dean was still talking.

“So. Who is it that you’re angry at? Just tell me.”

“It don’t matter, I’ll sort it!”

“No you won’t. Not for me when I don’t want it. You just tell me then you leave it. I mean it Sam. You leave me to decide what I’m going to do. If I want to do anything at all.”

“You’re being stupid!”

“You told me that. And I’m telling you! Whatever it is, whatever’s happened, you leave it. Before you get us both killed or worse again.”

That hit home. Sam winced, felt tears prickle in his eyes.

“I couldn’t bear what Lileth did.” He admitted, his voice felt so small. “I stood and watched you get torn to pieces, and I knew that was only the start of it. That you were really going to be suffering every minute from then on. And I tried, I really tried, to get you back. To do another deal.”

“I’m damn glad you didn’t...” His brother started to interject, but Sam put his hand up over his mouth so he could finish what he had to say.

“Well, none of them would take one. And yes, we know why now. Because all the pieces were being put into place around us. Had been all our lives. More than all our fucking lives, since before we were born. But at the time, all I knew is that you’d been taken, and it was _my_ fault, and I couldn’t get you back. No matter how hard I tried.

And _She_ was there. And I know you’d warned me about her before you were taken. And how hard you tried to warn me when you came back. But she, _Ruby_ ,” he could hardly bear to say her name. “She’d already got her claws in me by then. Made me an addict. Made me not think straight. Made me think that somehow killing Lileth would put everything else right. And I know that was my fault as well, I’m so ashamed of how I was and what I did. But I couldn’t bear being without you and not doing something about it. Because she hurt you, Dean! And I couldn’t bear it!”

“It wasn’t your revenge to take, Sammy. Only a fucking obsession that nearly destroyed everyone.” But Dean sounded calmer than he had a minute ago. “And I know... _she_....”he had such distaste in his voice as he said that, “was more than a part of it. But....I’ve got to go to the john.” With that announcement he began to try and get out of the bed, swinging his feet out to the floor and starting to stand up.

He went down like a nine pin, hitting the wooden floor with a loud bang. Sam rushed round to see him in a crumpled heap, holding his head in agony, tears of pain swirling in his eyes. “Dean! Dean. Here. Let’s get you up on the bed. Shit, what has that bitch done to you?”

He all but lifted his brother up bodily, putting him back on the mattress and carefully pulling his legs round so Dean could lie back down. But he stayed sitting upright, both hands pressed to his forehead now and wincing with the pain. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

By this time, Bobby had come bursting straight through the closed door in a panic at the sudden loud noise. He took one look, floated up the trashcan and held it ready. Dean swallowed hard and tried to ride the force of the pain away. He could barely see as bright white flashes of a greeny-blue hue were obscuring his vision, ’just a reaction from the headache’ he thought.

It finally subsided enough for him to be able to see again and the nausea to ease a little. “Sorry.” he apologised to the other two.

"Don’t be.” Bobby grunted, but he was looking anxiously at Sam. “We have to get him to a hospital.”

“I know, Bobby. But where’s safe? And what will we tell them?”

“What bitch?”

They both looked at Dean.

“You just said something about a bitch doing something to me. What bitch? What did she do?” This was to Sam, who bit his lip in frustration at himself. He looked to Bobby for help. “Come on, who? Crap.” Dean’s hands came up again as his own raised voice hurt his head. He tried to calm himself down. “Sam, could you help me into the bathroom please. I don’t think I can get there on my own.”

“I’ll find you a bottle.” Bobby rose from where he had been sitting on the bed, still holding the trash can.

“No you won’t.” Dean’s voice was low but firm. “I’m getting in there no matter what.”

“Bloody stubborn son of a.....” Bobby grumbled as he moved to materialise the doors open ready as Sam leant to pull Dean’s arm up and around his shoulder and began to help him try to stand again. Dean felt better with the support and managed to make the short distance without feeling his head was going to explode too much. Once in the doorway he reached for the basin and began to push the door closed behind him.

“No. Leave it open.” Sam moved to stop him.

“Go to hell.” he was told, but without too much malice.

Dean examined himself him in the mirror as he rinsed his hands after, needing to leave one resting against the wall at all times to prop himself up. No wonder they were so worried, he thought. He looked like shit. He washed his face and neck as well and felt a little better, although he was still getting flashes across his vision and he wished the headache would go away. But he was feeling a little hungry now. In fact, more than a little as someone must be cooking something good somewhere: the smell of meat pie, or stew or whatever it was, was making his mouth water.

“Nearly done now, boy. I’m sorry it’s been hurting you.” He blinked at the horrifically disfigured ghost behind him in the mirror and turned to her with an immediate smile.

“Miss Susie? What’cha doin’ here?”

From outside the door there were immediate shouts of alarm and a loud thump as Sam tried to get through the door. “Dean. Dean! Get away from her!”

He was bewildered. “How do they know you?”

“Oh, we had a small discussion a coupla days ago. I’m sorry that this has been hurting you. It’s taken a lot of magic, an awful lot. But it’s almost there.” Her image flickered away and reappeared right in front of him, reaching to take his face in her hands and pull his lips across to her battered ones as she was nearly as tall as him. It was an easy, gentle kiss: neither of them noticed or cared at the frantic hammering on the door. “We’re done waiting, boy.” she whispered.

He blinked as he found himself alone in the bathroom just as Bobby finally managed to get through the blockade of power and Sam broke the door open and burst in. Had he just dreamt that?

Then Sam had his hands on his shoulders and was shaking him in his anguish.”What did she do? What did she want?”

“I.” Dean couldn’t think for a moment. But he realised the pain in his head was suddenly receding, as if the pressure of something had been building up behind a dam of some sort which had abruptly given way, allowing the something to flow in one massive rush through to its ultimate destination. It had happened just as she had kissed him in fact. Or had he just imagined her?

“Dean!” Sam had his face in his large hands and was forcing him to look up at him. “What did she do?” His words were slow and careful. Dean felt a moment’s irritation that he was talking to him like he was an imbecile, like he couldn’t understand basic English, like he was somebody not fully there in the real world to understand the question.

“For fuck’s sake, you’re hurting!” he pushed Sam away from him roughly. “She didn’t do anything! In fact she took the pain away, it’s all gone. I feel fine now.”

“Jesus. What now?” Bobby was also frantic.

“She’s the reason you’ve been out of it for three days!” Sam burst out. “She did something to you. I couldn’t stop her! What did she do this time?”

“Miss Susie? She wouldn’t hurt me. And she just stopped the pain for me.” Dean was pushing past him.

“She was the cause of it, boy.” Bobby stopped him by suddenly appearing in front. “She poured so much magic into you. Took you somewhere else in your head. You’ve been out all this time, Dean. We didn’t think we were going to get you back.”

Dean stared at him in confusion, then at Sam. “Is that you’ve been mad at? Miss Susie? Don’t worry. Whatever it was, it's okay, she would never hurt me.”

“That bitch was the one that put you out!” Sam roared at him. “Your eyes were glowing. Christ, _you_ were glowing! What did she do to you? I’m gonna.....”

“Going to what, Sam?” Dean’s temper was also rising. “Going to seek revenge on a ghost? Is that what you’ve been lying there plotting? She. She’s part of my past. Nothing to do with you. And whatever it is, she would never hurt me!”

“But she did!”

“No, she didn’t! She just took the pain away!”

“She gave you the pain!”

“Then she must have a good reason!” Dean shouted. The other two men stared at him in frustration. He took a deep breath and tried to speak reasonably. “She’s a.... friend, Sam. Has been for a long time. Nothing you need to bother about. And I trust her. If she’s come back after all this time to do something, then it’s for a good reason and I trust her.”

“Oh, for fuck’s.... You talk to him!” Sam all but threw his hands in the air and walked away, leaving Bobby to try and think another way to argue with his very stubborn brother.

“Dean. That little lady is a very powerful witch. She appeared. Here. And she did something to you. What, I don’t know. But it frightened me, son. Really frightened me.”

“I’m sorry it did, Bobby. I’m sorry I can’t remember to tell you. But I do know it’s nothing bad. Not Miss Susie. Not to me.”

“And why is that, Dean?” Sam was returning, his temper still on full burn. “Cos she’s your friend? What about Amy? She was _my_ friend. Why was she different?”

“Because she’d killed four people, Sam! That’s why she was different! She’d already murdered four people. And you wanted to let her go because she ‘said’ she wouldn’t do any more. Well, not until her son was sick again, or _she_ was! That’s why she was different!”

“So she’d killed them! What about Emma: she was going to kill you but you weren’t going to stop her, were you? You’d have let her!”

“But she _didn’t_ Sam. How many times? If it had come to it, well, I don’t know what I’d have done. But she _didn’t_! She hadn’t even _tried_! You never even gave her the chance to _decide_ to kill me or not!”

His voice broke suddenly. He paled in front of them and stilled completely. “Emma? She‘s in Heaven isn’t she? That’s what Miss Susie came to tell me. God, I remember now. Emma’s in Heaven with her.”

He backed away from the other men, feeling behind him for the wall as if he was going to fall down if he had no support. They both heard him whisper to himself “She’s in Heaven.”

Sam noticed his brother absently rub at the inside of his left wrist in a strange motion with his other hand. “Oh hell, no.” He charged forward and grabbed roughly at him again, slamming his back against the wall. He caught for Dean’s wrist and held it up roughly. “No! Don’t you even _think_ of joining them! You’re staying here and living out your life! No slitting your wrists, or bullets to the brain. Don’t even start to think it! You’re staying here with me!

Please” he added in a much calmer, quieter voice as Dean stared up at him. “Stay with me, Dean. I’m sorry for what I did to Emma, but she’s safe now, and she’ll wait for you. Your Miss Susie told you that. She told you to live out your life. So stay with me. Please.”

He had wedged his brother against the wall completely, using his larger body. He held him there until Dean nodded. Only then could he relax. He knew that it would be a long time before he would ever do so completely. But he gave the show of doing so by stepping back and allowing Dean to breathe again.

He just stood against the wall as memories finally flooded back through him. “She told you, didn’t she? She told you what happened?” They both felt their heart’s break, even the un-beating heart broke at the stunned expression on his face as he realised what had happened.

It was Bobby who found his voice first to answer him. “She did, boy. She knew it was tearing you apart inside so she told us. Oh Dean, you shouldn’t have had to live with that.” He wished he could gather his surrogate son into a massive bear-hug. “You should have been able to tell us about that. What you had to do, boy. It don’t bear thinking about.”

He tried to step forward but knew he would be mentally pushed away. He could see Dean still struggling, trying desperately to get the last few missing minutes from that day. “What else? What else do you know?”

“Nothing, boy. Nothing that matters.”

“Yes, it does.” Sam broke in, his voice suddenly raw and emotional. “Yes, it does matter, Bobby. You should have told us, Dean. You should have told _me_ about....about dad.”

His words trailed off as he saw Dean’s sudden rapid change of expressions: confusion, sudden understanding, then desperation, horror, and most unfairly of all, guilt. Guilt that he had somehow betrayed their father. He thought Dean was going to fall again and hastily moved to support him. Dean stepped away from him in a big hurry, putting his arms up to block any attempt at an embrace.

He couldn’t speak. He wouldn’t have known what to say anyway, but it didn’t matter as he couldn’t physically speak. He had tried so hard to forget it, to not let his father down again, to keep little Sammy innocent. And somehow he had fucked up again. And he still couldn’t remember. But it didn’t matter. Because they knew. Knew what a complete and total disgrace he was. Knew how much he had deserved to go to Hell. How much he had _always_ deserved to go there anyway. Because of what had happened with his father.

And then Sam’s arms were around him so tight that he couldn’t breathe, but didn’t want to. And his face was buried in his brother’s chest. And Sam’s large hands were rubbing his back and he was telling him that it wasn’t his fault. That it had _never_ been his fault. That their father was a complete and total bastard to ever have done that. That it wasn’t Dean’s fault. And he had to stop thinking it was.

He could feel tears prickling in his eyes despite the numbness in his heart. He had let his father down again: no, you hadn’t Dean, don’t you ever think that. _He_ let _you_ down. The two conflicting voices, the one in his head and the one that he recognised as his brother’s carried on, until he couldn’t bear it anymore and the tears finally spilled over, soaking into the front of Sam’s shirt.

By the time he had recovered, Bobby had left them alone. He hadn’t noticed when. He only noticed that Sam still had his arms around him and was kissing his face with such tenderness, and also had tear-marks down his face. When had he been crying? And then Sam was leading him back into the bedroom and settling him on the small bed so he was leaning against the headboard and Sam was sitting beside him, still with his arms around him and pulling Dean closely to his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered into Dean’s ear. “This wasn’t your fault. In no way was this your fault. And I’m sorry about Emma, I really am. I should never have done that. But... don’t you think about going anywhere without me. I need you. More than you’ll ever know. It’s going to be okay, Dean. It is. It’s going to be okay.”


	18. That Night in the Cabin

Sam sighed and walked into the main room of the small cabin. Bobby was sitting outside the open doorway on the steps wishing he could drink coffee. He felt unfairly irritated at Sam, who had poured himself one from the pot and moved to join him as It felt good to get some fresh air after the tension that had smothered the interior ever since they had got there over five days ago and Dean had realised that he’d walked into a trap.

“How is he?” Bobby broke the silence.

“Finally gone back to sleep.” Sam rubbed his hand through his hair and felt tears springing to his eyes again. “He’s absolutely wrecked, Bobby. I can’t believe....”

“I know, boy. I’m having difficulty taking it all in. Every bit of it. And that poor boy lived through it!”

“Why didn't I know, Bobby? How could I not know?”

“Don’t beat yourself up, son. Both your daddy and your brother have always been good at hiding secrets. And at lying to all our faces. I had no idea whatsoever, and that poor boy stayed with me for how long? I knew about the bruises. That’s why your dad and me fell out, cos Dean was always covered in bruises. I knew he took the brunt of your daddy’s frustration at not be able to find that thing. But I never suspected this. Never even crossed my mind.”

“That’s more than I knew. I remember him hitting Dean on occasion, even kicked him once. But not often.”

“Behind closed doors. Behind sleepy little eyes. John had a temper. Used to knock your mother about. You ask Dean. It wasn’t the happy marriage your daddy made out once she was dead.”

Sam sighed. “I saw. That day we were taken to Heaven together, I saw. I should have realised then. About Dean I mean.”

“We all should have.” It was a grunt. Sam knew it was because Bobby was trying to control his emotions. “Has he said any more? About ? I mean....how long for?”

“I didn’t ask.” Sam responded. “I’ve pushed him too much. I don’t think he can take much more, Bobby. All of this, with ....John. I don’t even want to call him dad any more. And that witch and those three fucking evil bastards. And all the times he must have gone out doing....God knows what to support us. I could have done more, Bobby. Seen more. Taken it all for granted less. I knew we didn’t have money but I still wanted. Never asked, not really asked where it all came from.

Even when I came back, Bobby. Even when Jess died and I came back, it was always Dean hustling, or doing,” he shook his head still in disbelief. “whatever he was doing to pay for us both. It didn’t all come from credit card scams! It was only when he got that terrible electric shock that nearly destroyed his heart that I suddenly realised just how broke we, he, was. One bag of possessions and a car, that’s all he has. He’s over thirty years old and that’s all he has, Bobby! I should have been there to have his back, but I wasn’t.”

He sighed. “I’ve got to let it go for the moment. I’m desperate to ask. Desperate to _know_. But I’m worried that if I push any more then he’ll just crack and I can’t risk that. Not now.”

Bobby studied him through half-closed eye-lids. “You think he might try to go early to join that little girl of his, don’t you?”

“We’ve talked him down from the ledge before, Bobby.” Sam met his eyes straight on. The other nodded as he remembered.

“So what do we do now? Just ignore it? Don’t broach the subject and let him talk if he wants? You think he will?”

“Nope. But it’s the best I can hope for at the moment. No matter what, he’ll take the blame and leave dad a saint.” The hatred in Sam’s voice broke Bobby’s heart. Because he knew that he was right. But at least they both finally knew the truth.

“I _have_ to know, Bobby. I can’t leave it!” Sam suddenly blurted. “But I don’t know how....”

“You and me both, Sam.” The older man assured him. “But for now, we leave the subject alone. We have to leave him be.”

“I know Bobby, I know. But. I need you to know, that...I know what you think of me. But I’m sorry I don’t care. He needs me. I’m not going to leave him, I’m not. Not unless I know he’s happy with ....Cas....or someone.”

“Cas?” Now he had Bobby’s attention “The Angel? Are you kidding me?”

“That’s what Dean said. But. He was always happier when Cas was there. I used to see him glance at Cas but I never realised.... And I definitely saw Cas glance back. Somehow he’ll come back to us properly. He’ll come to _Dean_. I know that Dean loves me, but he’s not in love with me, he’s just keeping me happy because that’s what he does. But I’d like to see him happy, Bobby, even if it’s not with me. He deserves that.” He dared to look the older man straight in the eye. “I know this situation is screwed. We’re totally screwed up.“

Bobby snorted, “No argument from me there, boy. Fathers raping sons, brothers raping brothers, brothers sleeping with brothers, who needs apocalypses?” Sam’s face reddened. He could convince himself, but not this old man.

“I’m sorry, Bobby.”

“No.” It was Bobby’s turn to sigh. “No. I’m sorry. You two have always had an abnormal bond, always have had. That’s what kept you alive, well kept you both returning to life anyways. You both need each other and the world needs the both of you. So. You just promise me that you’ll put your brother first this time, okay? He deserves that. If he’s happy with you then I won’t say anymore.

But I’m telling you, _warning_ you, to make him happy. If this is just about you again, then walk away, Sam, let him alone.

Who knows, if he’s left alone for a while, he might just make that move on that Angel! I can’t believe I just said that!” he groaned to himself. “God, I thought I’d seen it all. I must be getting so old.”

He sighed, a heartfelt sigh. “Jodie has been calling and calling your phone, she’s worried about him. And you.” He added. “If you’re good here, I’m going to.....just try and recharge. I know what you mean about not leaving him alone for a while, we’ll watch him between us.”

Sam nodded. “When you return, I’ll go and get us something to eat. He must be as hungry as hell. We only managed to get him to drink some soup before he zoned out completely, and that’s already three days ago now.”

“You must be too, son.”

“But at least I’ve managed to snatch _something_. And I ate properly during the previous two. I wouldn’t let him.” He sighed. Another thing he had got so badly wrong.

Bobby nodded, wished he could give Sam a consoling hug as well. He had never felt the need for physical touch when he had a body, now that he didn’t he regretted the lack of it every day.

Sam watched as he just eventually disappeared. He sighed and returned to inside the cabin, making sure the door was secured behind him. He went straight into the small room where Dean was to check on him. To his surprise, his brother was awake.

“Hey.” Sam knelt down beside the bed. “I thought that would be you for the night.” He leant up on his heels so he could give Dean a tender kiss.

“Nah.” Dean returned the kiss, putting his hand up to his brother’s long hair and stroking it. “Slept enough. Too many things going round my head.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t speak. Instead he pulled the covers back and gently slipped beneath them beside Dean, wriggling as close as he could and putting his arms around him again, tucking his brother into below his arm like he would have done with an upset child.

“Was that your cell ringing?”

“Yeah, Jodie again. I’ll call her later.”

Dean remained silent for a long moment. “Oh God. She was here too!” he suddenly blurted. “Why was _she_ here?”

“She turned up to check on us just as you escaped. Worst captive I’ve ever met!” He tried to make a joke, but there was no returning smile on Dean’s face. If anything he just looked more upset.

“Was she there the whole time?”

Sam bit his lip. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

Dean looked like he might cry again but struggled with his fraught emotions and kept them under control. Sam sighed and pulled him even closer to him and rubbed his lips against the top of Dean’s soft haired head, trying to convey without words how terrified he’d been that Dean might never wake up and how sick he felt at all the things that he had suffered without Sam ever knowing.

His brother’s long silence unnerved him, but he waited and just hoped that he would be okay. He wished he could make him smile again. He didn’t see how he ever could, or how he had ever, ever managed to before. Not with all this buried in his soul.

“I’m grateful she was here.” He finally couldn’t stay quiet any more. “It was Jodie who realised the truth. I. I’m stunned, Dean. I honestly had no idea. I just wish you could have told me.”

Dean didn’t respond, but Sam could feel his body tense against his side. This was a conversation he did not want at all. It took a long moment for him to build himself up enough to reply.

“Some things are best unsaid, Sam. They don’t matter. Over and done with.”

“No.” Sam tried to keep himself calm and under control: it wasn’t only the witch that he had been imagining beating to a bloody pulp when Dean had woken up previously. “It fucking _does_ matter, Dean. Because _you_ matter. That bastard…..what he did. It _does_ matter.” He could feel himself shaking with rage. He knew his brother could feel it as well.

“Leave it alone, Sam. It’s gone now.”

He couldn’t help himself, he wanted to scream and yell and hit someone with extreme prejudiced violence. But not his brother. Never his brother.

“It’s not gone, Dean. It will never be gone. I will never think of him again without thinking of what he did. That monster should never have touched you. The bastard raped you Dean! He….”

“It wasn’t rape. He just missed mom.” Sam felt his temper hit boiling point. How could Dean _still_ be defending their father? “He said I had her eyes. Don’t think of it as rape. Well... No. Not rape.”

“For fucks...!” Sam couldn’t help himself: he all but threw himself out of the bed and began pacing the floor of the small room.

Dean sat up in the bed and watched him carefully. Sam had his hands balled into fists by his sides, his face was as dark and as terrifying as his elder brother could ever remember seeing it. He sighed, he just wanted this all to stop.

“Sam. Please. You know now. Let it go.”

“Why did you pause?”

“What?”

“Just then. Why did you pause? You started to say something, then clammed up again like you always do. What is it, Dean. _Tell_ me. Please. Just tell me all the truth, now. No point in trying to hide it any longer.”

“Sam. I...”

His younger brother stopped walking around the room. He instead stood and leant against the wall by the small curtained window and took a deep, visible breath in. “I’m calm now, Dean. Please just tell me. You say it started when you were ‘bout eight’. When did it finish? When was the last time he did that to you?”

He noticed the flinch. Noticed the pain in Dean’s eyes just for an instant before it was hidden again. Knew he had to keep pushing.

“It don’t matter.”

Sam turned away to the small window and pulled back the curtain to look out for a few minutes. Perhaps it might be easier on his brother if he couldn’t see his face.

“I remember a big fight you had, I must have been about nine. When you said you weren’t going outside with him anymore. Was that what it was about? Was that when you stood up to him and finally said ‘enough’? Was that the end of it?”

“Yeah, that was pretty much it.”

Sam bit down his frustration. “Dean. Please. Just tell me.” Carefully he turned back to watch Dean as he tried to think of a different way of asking, of posing the question in a way that Dean couldn’t just avoid.

“Was there any time that you _do_ think of as rape?”

His anger resurfaced inside him as Dean’s green eyes suddenly swam with tears again. “Dean? Was that why you paused? When _did_ he rape you? Please tell me.”

He forced himself to remain where he was as Dean slowly began to move back on the bed, little by little inching backwards until he had hit the headboard at the top of it. Sam was reminded of that position he had first seen his brother in after he had raped him those few months ago, huddled against the wall in the motel room. Now as they talked, Dean slowly curled in on himself, protecting his body with his arms and suddenly seeming so small and vulnerable.

“Dean?”

“It was only once.” Oh god, his brother’s voice was so raw. “But....”

“Tell me.” Carefully Sam slid his body down to squat against the wall where he had been leaning. He wanted so desperately to cross back across the room, but knew if he stopped Dean from talking by trying to comfort him, then the chance would be gone and probably never reoccur. He waited.

Not patiently, but he waited.

“You’re right about that fight.” Dean finally whispered. “He left me alone after that. Plus he already had other interests by then: Adam and his mum for a start. But then I screwed up. I really screwed up. And he was so angry. Dad was so angry. I deserved it. I _know_ I deserved it. But he hurt me every bit as bad as those men. Hurt as bad as in Hell. He was _so_ angry at me.”

“Why? What had you done?”

Dean looked at him, the tears beginning to fall again.

“Dean? What had you done?”

His brother couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face him. He could barely hear the words as Dean whispered them to his feet. “It was on my watch.”

And Sam had heard those words before. In Heaven, when he had relived one of his favourite memories of running away and just being normal. Ironically the trip to Washington had been the start of that: the desire to be ‘normal’. To be safe. He had noticed the expression on Dean’s face when he had realised what that memory was, but had, even then, never asked. Not really.

“When dad found me he gave me the biggest hug he’d ever done. Then he grounded me for a month, I thought I’d got away with it. I never dreamt…. You never even got out of the car to greet me. I thought you were just pissy with me. You were pissy at me for weeks.”

The tears ran harder down his brother’s cheeks. “He broke four of my ribs. My left lung collapsed. And he hurt me so bad. He was so angry he used it as a punishment. Really tore.... I couldn’t have got out of that car if I’d tried, but he’d _told_ me to damn well stay there.”

“Oh God, Dean. I didn’t know.”

“Happiest two weeks of your life. I saw. But it was on _my_ watch.”

“Dean. I....”

“I don’t want to talk about this no more. Sammy, please don’t make me talk about this no more.”

Sam looked at his brother. Really looked at him. And for the first time he saw him properly. Not as the loud, fast-talking, confident persona that he always conveyed. Not even as the really beautiful man that he had become. But as the frightened little boy who had been all but destroyed by all the evil in his life, the worst of which had come directly from inside his own family.

Carefully Sam stood up and began to cross to him, but stopped when he saw Dean huddle down into himself more.

“I’d never hurt you again, Dean. I’m not dad.”

Dean gave a tiny sad snort. “That’s what he would say. That’s what he’d _always_ say, that he’d never do it again. You’re just like him.”

“I’m nothing like him!”

“Yeah you are. You were always locking horns because you are. With me in the middle getting caught in the crossfire. You both just took what you wanted.” The sudden clarity with which he was talking took his younger brother’s breath away.

“I’m _nothing_ like him!” Sam was shaking at the accusation. “He should _never_ have done that to you. He was a _monster_!”

Dean stared at him suddenly, completely calm. It was that that unnerved Sam more than anything else. “For doing _that_ to me? If that’s the case, what are _you_ , Sam?”

Sam had to turn away. He slammed his fisted hand against the wall a couple of times then stood and looked out at the trees beyond as he tried to get himself under control. He stood a long time. Because Dean was right. And he knew he was right. And he _hated_ that he was right.

But then in the glass of the window he could see the reflection of how his brother was sitting on that bed, all hunched up, looking lost, and mentally collapsing into that terrible place inside himself where Dean Winchester flushed all the bad things of his life. And Sam suddenly realised that this might well be the time he finally drowned in it if Sam didn’t get his own head out of his ass and do something to pull him back. _Anything_ to shock him out of it. Now, right _now_ , Sam.

Move! 

_Now!_

Quickly, decisively, Sam reclosed the curtains and turned to face the bed that his brother was huddled on. “Are you afraid of me? I want the truth, Dean. Are you scared of me?”

Dean thought, but only for a moment. “No, Sam. I didn’t mean that just then. I trust you. And I know you won’t do anything like that again. It’s just, sometimes, memories...you know?”

“I know.” Sam was striding across to him, removing his t-shirt on route. Dean’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he forced himself not to flinch as Sam climbed right onto the bed, pulled him physically down it and clamboured on top of him. He sought out Dean’s mouth with some urgency and kissed him hard and passionately.

Finally he pulled away and raised himself up so he could look down into his brother’s green eyes. “I will _never_ hurt you again. But I’m going to ask you a question and I want an honest answer.”

“Okay.” Dean replied hesitantly. He mentally braced himself ready for forever it was.

Sam smiled, a dirty lust-filled smile, and leant to kiss him again just briefly. Then, with his mouth right on his brother’s he whispered: “Tell me dad made you moan with pleasure like I do, and I’ll admit that I’m a little like him.”

Dean caught his breath beneath him and almost choked: “Sam?”

“Did he, Dean? Did you moan for him like you do when I’m inside you?” As Sam was saying this, he was grinding his groin into his brother’s and despite himself, Dean did moan and arched his back for more. “So did you?”

He waited for Dean to recover enough to return his gaze. Hoped against hope that he would. He was relieved when he shyly smiled, shook his head and reached up to put his arms around his brother’s naked back and shoulders.

“He. I loved the man, Sam. I always will. I know you don’t understand that. But. He was _dad!_ ”

He looked away for a long moment. “You’ve heard my worst ever day yesterday….whenever it was. Well, dad was definitely my second worst, and all my third worst days rolled into one when he was in that mood. But I don’t want you to hate him. It don’t matter. As long as he never came after _you_ ….”

“Oh Dean,” Sam felt tears prickle at his eyelids again. “Did he ever threaten that?” He already knew the answer, he hadn’t really needed to ask. He knew Dean would do anything, _had_ done anything to protect him, even as a little boy. And their father would have known that as well. “I know how much you love him. I _hate_ him, but I love him! But I wish you could have told me.”

“Some things aren’t for sharing, Sammy. You just forget it. Just remember him as your dad.”

He looked back up at his brother in surprise as he felt the warm teardrops falling onto his face. Gently he moved his fingers up to Sam’s face to wipe them away.

“Dean.” Sam was hugging him, holding him so tight and kissing him again. “This is why your soul shines so bright, brighter than everyone’s. Because you can forgive the unforgivable!”

But I can’t, he added to himself. And I never, _never_ will.

He kissed him again and to his relief felt Dean respond. He still wanted this. He couldn’t have blamed Dean if he hadn’t, not after everything. And he knew his brother desperately needed help and would do for a long time to come: Sam was going to look into getting him into therapy as soon as they had solved this latest ‘end-of-the-world’ problem, even if it meant him having to force him there at gunpoint. In the meantime he would look up self help on the internet.

But for now they had this. And if it meant Dean would let Sam hold him safely in his arms and tell him how he loved him, then Sam would do this as much and as often as his brother would allow him.

The kiss gradually became more passionate as their mouths explored each other’s in what had now become an accustomed ritual. Both were breathless when they finally broke for air.

“You do want this?” Sam felt he had to check. He would ask every time. It was more important to him than ever now. Dean nodded and reached for his mouth again.

Sam kissed him briefly this time and pulled away. “I love you.” He told him. “As a brother and as a lover. I’m sorry if that’s wrong. And I’m so sorry I hurt you. And I’ll never forgive myself for leaving you. But I’m not sorry that we’re like this, as long as you want this as well. If not, just say. I’ll never touch you again. I just need to check you’re with me willingly. That this is okay with you as well.”

He didn’t get to say anything else as Dean pulled his mouth down to his own again and finally twisted to roll Sam beneath his own strong but smaller body and began kissing him with an intensity that was going to bruise both their mouths. Sam sighed with pleasure and desire as he felt his brother’s hands begin to caress and stroke his torso. Then the kiss was broken as Dean began to explore him with his mouth as well, slowly but surely working his down towards Sam’s large erection waiting for him beneath his jeans.

“Oh God, Dean.” It was all he could say as he was stripped of the last of his clothes and his brother’s mouth closed around his cock. “I want you so much. Always have. But you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’d never make you. I just got to be sure you’re with me cos you want to….”

His words were cut off as Dean glanced up at him, his eyes glinting like emeralds through the thick lashes, and suddenly deepthroated his entire cock while somehow wrapping his tongue around the thick shaft and humming deep inside his throat. Sam came with a roar inside his mouth and felt tears prickle his eyes again, but from the intensity of his climax this time rather than the previous emotions of that day. He could barely breathe as his heart pounded inside his chest and his cock throbbed and pulsed deep inside his brother's warm, moist orifice.

Dean licked and swallowed every last bit before moving to lay down beside him again. “Sam. I _do_ want this. I shouldn’t but I do.” He paused as his thoughts turned elsewhere. Sam watched him and just waited: he could see his brother was trying to think through his next words. “Dad just missed mom, that’s all. You’re nothing like him. Forget about it. I have.” But he didn’t meet Sam’s eyes as he said this to the mattress.

Sam’s heart broke for the umpteenth time that day and he reached out to his brother to pull him into his arms, closing in on his mouth with his own once more. With a gentle push he moved Dean onto his back and straddled him with his legs, lying on top of his body. He never wanted to leave his lips, more so because he knew Dean had been right before. He was just like his dad. Too much. Especially in how they had both treated Dean so badly. And he had forgiven them both. He was definitely the best of the Winchester’s. Sam just wanted to tell him in every way how much he loved him and how sorry he was, and how he never wanted to be without him.

They kissed for a long time, just enjoying each other. Then Sam pulled away. “Dean? Will you fuck me? Please?”

Dean nodded, his expression slightly glazed. He held up his hand and extended his fingers. “You sucking or am I?”

“No.” Sam told him as he got up from the bed, again fully erect, and fetched the lubricant from his bag. “I just want you in me.”

“But….”

“No.” Sam began to strip the clothes from his brother, disposing of his jeans and boxers on the floor and allowing Dean’s own cock to bounce up once unrestrained. He knelt and licked it gently. Dean moaned. “I want you to let yourself loose. Don’t hold back. I know you do: you try to be so gentle with me. But I want to not be able to walk for a week, let alone not be able to sit down. I want you to mark me as yours. I can take it. I want to take it. Please. Just relax and make me yours.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you, Sammy.”

“I know you wouldn't. But I want you to. Make me yours, Dean. Please. I can take it.”

He had overdone the licking because he was talking and not concentrating. Dean began to gasp and moan as Sam’s mouth brought him too close to a climax. Sam chuckled. “Now who can’t last?”

He bent over his brother, sucked as much of his long thick cock into his mouth as he could, wishing that he could pleasure his brother by getting it into his throat as Dean so expertly could do for himself, and suckled and licked for as long as he could manage. Dean clutched at his hair and cried his name as he came. Sam held him in his mouth as long as he could before he choked and had to let him go as Dean sprayed over them both.

“Sorry.” Dean apologised, and reached to pull him into his arms, but Sam knocked his hand away and instead returned his mouth to his softened cock to begin him all over again. “Sam?”

“Told you I wanted you in me!” Sam worked on him for a few minutes until he heard Dean begin to gasp again, then handed him the lube. “Slick yourself. Oh god, Dean, I want you in me.”

Dean did as he was told. He never took his eyes from Sam as he did, then put the lube aside on the table and lay back. “Come and sit on my face, let me open you up.”

Sam couldn’t resist. He nodded, crawled up the bed to kneel straddling his brother’s head. He almost lost control himself as that soft, warm long tongue entered him without hesitation. It would be somewhere near the top of his list of favourite parts of Dean’s body and what his brother could do to him with it would be x-rated content in any context.

Then as he felt his own cock tighten and himself begin to moan, he hastily forced himself off Dean’s face and slid down to sit astride his waist instead. Before his brother could raise another worry, he reached behind him to take hold of his lubricated cock and carefully guided himself into position before beginning to lower himself down. Dean helped by holding his thighs as he worked himself onto his cock and it gradually entered his body.

“Oh God.” He was in ecstacy.

“Am I hurting you?” He smiled at his brother’s concern.

“No. You belong in me. You really do. Fuck us being created to be vessels for the Angels: I was created to be this for _you_!”

He sighed as he kept carefully pushing down until he was fully seated on Dean’s long, slicked cock. He took a moment to pause while he just got used to the sensations running through him and realised he had only pushed his brother’s t-shirt up around his nipples and not removed it for him completely. He lent forward and remedied that by pulling it off over his head.

Then he stared. Miss Susie had done as she had said and returned all Dean’s old scars. There was ‘his’ burn on his brother’s chest, just below his left shoulder. Sam stared at it as the memories of that day vividly ran through his head. For the first time he realised that that event, of being in the clutches of those psychotic human monsters who had tortured him for fun, must have brought back terrible memories for Dean. And Sam hadn’t even noticed. But the witch had been correct: that was the first time, besides the electric shock that had nearly taken his brother from him in one second of terror, that he had really, truly realised just how much he loved Dean, and how lost he would be without him.

He reached to touch the scar, only half focusing on the others around it and lower: marks of claws, and slashes, and stabs, and the occasional bullet hole. All things that he had heard Dean comment more than once that he felt naked without: all wiped away by Castiel who probably would have wondered at the sentimentality of such things collected over the course of a violent life. But these were the mementoes that mattered: they told the story of Dean Winchester. Better than any book ever would.

He became aware of his brother watching him through half-lowered lashes and he knew that he understood completely. Sam all but doubled himself in two to get his mouth to ‘his’ burn mark, licking and caressing it with his lips, getting to know its contours and feel. Dean helped by sitting up beneath him and arching his body so he could worship it easier, and also that he could begin to thrust into Sam as his desire got too much to hold off any longer. Sam promised himself that the first chance he got, he would lie Dean down and just take his time, and his hands and his lips and his tongue, to fully explore and map his brother’s body afresh. He wanted to know every single inch of it with every single inch of himself.

But for now, his own lust was taking over and he leant over and kissed Dean as hard as he could on his mouth worshipping his lips and tongue, while savouring what he was doing with his cock inside him.

Dean broke the kiss and whispered in his ear. “Do you really want it hard?”

“Oh fuck, yes. Let yourself go and really pound into me. I can take it. I want to.”

And with his permission, Dean was sliding his hands beneath Sam’s thighs and getting up off the bed. Sam nearly stopped breathing in bliss as his own weight, with him being fully impaled on his brother, opened him even deeper than he ever had been before. He wrapped his arms around his brother as he was carried to the nearest wall.

Sam was expecting his back to be slammed against it, but instead Dean stopped a couple of foot away. “Lean back.” He noticed Sam’s slight hesitation. “Trust me and lean back. I won’t let you fall.”

“I always trust you.” Sam responded and he released his tight grip on his brother’s shoulders and leant back, shivering with anticipation as he felt the smooth cold wall behind him. Dean took a moment, adjusted his position minutely and expertly, and began to thrust. Slowly at first, but then building up a rhythm that was ripping moans from Sam’s mouth. His full weight was on Dean’s cock, supported only by his strong arms and the slightest bit from the wall which was mostly being used so he could get the angle correct for Sam.

And he had. Every thrust was hitting Sam’s prostrate as it buried deep inside him. He felt it hurt in the best way he had ever known: he knew he was going to feel it for days after and he was loving it. “Oh shit, Dean, don’t stop! Don’t you dare stop!”

“Ain’t going to. You said you wanted this! Now you’re gonna get it!”

Dean didn’t pause at all as he grunted the words at him, and he upped the speed of the rhythm even more. Sam lost the ability to speak, the only noises he could make were animal, even if Bobby had returned to the cabin at that moment he knew that they were past stopping, and way past caring.

He could feel Dean’s body beading with sweat, he could see it drip off his forehead and feel it around his shoulders where Sam was still resting his hands. He must have been getting tired, but he didn’t falter in his rhythm at all. Not even when Sam shouted his throat sore and came all over him. Dean just kept going. Until Sam’s cock was hard again somehow and all his limbs were shivering and trembling from the force of his first come and he could feel the anticipation of an even larger one building inside him, and his vision was actually beginning to white out.

Only then did Dean suddenly pull Sam’s body down onto him physically as he gave one final massive, intense thrust up inside his brother. Sam cried out as he felt white hot come fill every single part of his insides as his big brother climaxed with a growl and the intense throbbing of his cock marked his position up deep inside Sam’s body. It triggered yet another massive orgasm for Sam who would later wonder if he had briefly lost consciousness at the intensity of it: his cock certainly would be as tender as his ass for days after.

Finally Dean pushed him against the wall out of need for its support as he tried to catch his breath. He was still standing upright with his brother wrapped around him. Sam didn’t know how he could. “Do you want me to get down?” Even those few words were an effort to say, he was so exhausted.

“Nah. Just hold tight.”

“Thank God,” Sam told him. “I don’t think I could even walk to the bed at the moment.”

Dean laughed. Sam wrapped his long shaky limbs around him and was carried like a sleepy child back to the bed. Dean placed him down as carefully on the bed as he always had when Sam was in his arms when he was little, Sam felt himself snigger at the comparison of then and now, and then and only then did Dean finally pull out of him and simply collapse on the bed by his side.

They both lay and gasped for breath for a few minutes. Then Sam became aware of Dean shivering and hastily grabbed at the blankets to cover him up. His brother laughed again at his wince as he moved. It was music to Sam’s ears. He snuggled into Dean’s side, pulling his arm around him and laid his own arm across his chest. He wished he could dare go to sleep, safe and sated in Dean’s arms.

“That was fantastic.”

He felt his brother snort. “Well, I suppose the one advantage of you knowing what a sick and fucked-up bastard I am is that at least I can show you how I sometimes like sex. But say if it’s not okay.”

“Dean, that was more than okay! Anything you ever want to do to me, just do it! I’m yours to do it to. I really am!” Sam paused, wondered if he dare say his next thoughts.

“Have you ever? I mean….When this is over. When we’ve destroyed the leviathans. What would you think about us leaving this life? Finding somewhere to live where no one knows us. Where no one will ever know. We’ll buy rings, just let everyone assume I’ve taken your name. Just live as a couple.”

Dean didn’t respond but his eyes glinted green as he listened. Sam took courage from his silence. “You can find a job as a mechanic. Or….. what did you want to be? If it weren’t for dad. I mean…. Not what he did. But how he brought us up. What was your dream?”

To his surprise Dean didn’t even have to think. “A cook of some sort. I.” He stopped, Sam sighed as he knew his brother was embarassed for just simply admitting something that everyone else took for granted: that he had had dreams of his own. He nudged him in encouragement, and held him tighter. Dean struggled on with his words. “When I was with Lisa, I cooked most of the meals. I really enjoyed it. And I’m ….good at it.”

“Macaroni cheese with marshmallows?”

“Nothing so exotic. But I can make a mean lasagne. And lamb rogan josh. And lots of different sorts of pie!”

Sam smiled at him. “Somewhere with a kitchen for you then. And I can…” He came to a pause himself as he couldn’t think of anything. “And I don’t know what _I_ can do. I had to get a job as a bus-boy! I. I’ll have to become a kept woman and meet you at the door with a martini and wearing nothing but a smile!”

He smiled suggestively at his brother who snorted. “You’re so insatiable, you’d just greet me with a collar and lead and use me as your sex-slave every night!”

Sam’s hopes rose: could Dean be really thinking about it?

Then they were immediately dashed. His brother sighed and shook his head. “Could never happen, Sam. If there’s one thing I’ve come to realise, it’s that we can run as far as we can from this job, but it will always follow us. We’re like magnets for evil, you and me. Well. Me anyway. Perhaps you’d have a chance.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“No, it’s not. I know how I’ll die. I’ve led a violent life: I’ll have a violent death. But. If I go first, you try. You try and escape it. Try and be normal. Don’t look back.”

“You’re being stupid!” Sam was angry at him. “That’s not going to happen. And I’m not going to leave you!”

“You may not have a choice.” Dean calmly pointed out. “I’m sorry I dragged you back into this life: I should never have come to get you.”

“I was surrounded by demons! My so-called best friend was a demon! You saved me!”

“I wish we could have protected you from all this.” Sam’s temper rose even further as he realised that Dean was referring to himself and their father, their abusive son-of-a-bitch father.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you _dare!_ This, your whole life, is my fault! No, it’s mom’s fault! And dad’s! And if you ever. Ever. Leave me. Then I will find you and drag you back kicking and screaming back into my life! No matter where you are!”

Dean glanced down his chest at him, but said nothing. He could see how angry Sam was at him and was sorry he had spoilt the intimate mood. He bit his lip.

“I’m sorry Sam. I’m just saying. All that matters to me is that you’re happy. I just want you to be happy. And you’re not happy doing this life: I know that.”

“I’m happy with _you_ , you asshole! I’ll go anywhere with you! I’ll do anything with you! And don’t you dare try and leave me! Not until you’re old and really ugly!” He all but pounced on his brother, kissing him with a desperation born of his anger and his love: a love that Dean just couldn’t seem to accept was true and completely, totally, unashamedly for him. To his amazement he felt aroused again just from tasting him. He pulled his mouth away from Dean’s and growled at him. “I am going to get through to you that you are my first choice! You have _always_ been my first choice! I don’t know how I’m going to get that through to you, but I am damn well going to keep trying if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

He kissed him again and felt his brother respond beneath him. “I love you. Really, truly, deeply. And whatever happens, we’re in this together. If it has to be as Hunters then that’s what we’ll be. I’m just trying to say that it’s not wrong to allow ourselves to dream. As long as we share the dream.”

His anger had all but dissipated. Just looking into those gleaming, meadow green eyes calmed him like nothing else never had and nothing else ever would. He bent to taste his brother’s mouth again and they shared another passionate, genuine, long kiss.

It was all too soon that Sam sighed. “I better get up. Bobby will probably be appearing abruptly and scaring the shit out of me again soon. You must be starving: what would you like to eat?”

“Anything’s good.”

“Okay. I’ll just grab a shower. You get some sleep if you want.”

“Nah. I’ll get up.”

Sam smiled and caught his mouth for one last kiss. He grabbed some clean clothes out of his bag and went to leave the room.

He was nearly out of the door when Dean asked: “Bobby. He. All those things he said. About us?”

“You don’t have to worry about him, Dean. Or ever feel guilty, He blames me, says I corrupted you. But it’s okay. Him and me’s okay. So you’re not to worry about it.”

He sighed at Dean’s wide eyes, but made himself leave the room. If Bobby did return now and caught them both naked then it would be a more awkward conversation than the one his brother was envisaging. Far more awkward! Better the old man never see them like that. Oh god, Sam hoped he’d never see them like that. At least Bobby had never come into the bedroom unless asked to.

He had some fresh coffee made by the time Dean came into the main room, having also showered. He watched how Sam was walking and couldn’t hide his grin. Sam made a face at him and brought over a sandwich.

“What’s in it?”

“Shut up and eat it, jerk!”

“Watch it, bitch!”

“Mind if I work?” Sam reached for his laptop.

Dean shook his head. “I’ll get mine in a minute. I’ll just finish this first.” He settled himself on the sofa that he had been chained to just three days previously. Sam watched him in the increasing gloom of twilight: he was still worried that his brother looked exhausted but he said nothing. He just removed himself to the other chair and began their normal routine of seeking out the abnormal in an unbelieving world.

After a while he glanced up. “This might be something….”

He stopped as he realised that Dean had finally fallen properly asleep for the first time in far too long, his hands still cradling his drink. Sam smiled at the sight and felt so much love in his heart as he carefully removed the half-full mug, lucky he hadn’t spilt it over himself, and went to get a blanket and pillow to try and settle him more comfortably. He wondered idly as he did what Dean was dreaming about as he had a large smile on his face.

*   *   *   *   *   *

Inside his head Dean had no idea where he was and he didn’t care. He had suddenly become aware while sitting on the sofa of being pulled through something, he wasn’t sure what but it was bright and hurt his eyes with a bluey-green light that seemed familiar and then he was somewhere else. Somewhere he didn’t recognise but did. A place that looked like the interior of a cabin, but an old one. Centuries old. With a roaring fire that had a pot of game stew bubbling away above it that smelt wonderful and made his stomach rumble and he knew he had smelt the rich meaty smell somewhere before. And there were other smells as well: of herbs and flowers and rich concoctions of numerous potions. And there were old bottles of different coloured glass that shone internally from the powerful magic contained within them casting different lights and glows around the small room as well as small man-made earthernware containers of ointments and other things that he couldn’t imagine.

And none of it mattered because within a second of him arriving there he had heard a squeal of “Daddy! Daddy! No, you can’t be here yet! I’m so sorry, daddy. You can’t be dead! Oh daddy!” and he had turned in time to catch his daughter as she had hurled herself at him and burst into floods of tears, And he had held her tight, knowing without question that this was somehow real and he was somehow there with her. Not a dream. Not death. Something else. And he knew that he loved his daughter and from her reaction he knew she loved him as well. They had met so briefly in life but the father/daughter bond had been instantaneous and deep, and was never going to be broken. Not by anyone.

And as Emma’s tears had subsided, and he could dare to release her enough to wipe her face with his sleeve and laugh at her snotty nose and she had recovered enough to roll her eyes at him and cry all over again, he was finally able to look at the other occupant of the room. He held his hand out to her.

“I take it this is your doing, Miss Susie?”

“Hey boy.”

She moved across to him and accepted the one-armed embrace that he was offering, his left arm still tight around his daughter. She looked like she should have done in life: stunningly beautiful, younger than Emma in appearance but definitely a woman, pure black hair, deep dark eyes. All marks and scars and mutilations were now gone without trace.

But her voice was still the one that the others had heard in the cabin. It was still the one that had sent shivers of something unworldly through Dean’s body the first time he had heard it all those years before. A voice of knowledge from generations of her ilk, all drawn to and contained into the one body: a voice that told him that he was in the presence of something incredibly powerful, something that his Hunter instinct told him he should be very, very afraid of, and yet a something that was an almost innate part of him, had become a part of him since he had helped Miss Susie to find peace. Something that he instinctively knew with every single bone in his body he need never fear. Because it belonged to him, and he belonged to her.

She moved easily into his ready arm: Emma also turned and held out her left arm and they shared a three-way embrace. “We had enough of waiting, boy. Your girl needed her daddy. Too much time was a wasting, time you should be sharing.”

“You did this, Miss Susie?” Emma was staring at her in awe. “He’s not dead, then?”

“Nah, Chile. It took me a long time for all my powers to collect. Had to wait for the last of my kind to die first. Had to learn how to use them. Start from scratch as it were. But your daddy’s here now. He can come and go as he wants. We don’t have to wait for him to finish his life before he comes home to us. And we can help him if he needs us.”

“But how?”

“There’s always ways into everywhere, Chile. Secret ways, if you know how to make them. Even into Heaven itself. Sorry I hurt you doing it, boy.”

“It don’t matter, Miss Susie.” He meant it. “I’m glad you did. If it means I get to see you both.”

“And we get to see _you_ , boy. But I can’t call you boy anymore.” She was tall enough to stare directly into his eyes: deep, dark, almost black irises meeting soft, intense green. “Dean. My Dean. Mine. And my Emma,” she added quickly with a glance at the other young woman in the room. “My family.”

She couldn’t help herself and leant forward to kiss his lips with hers, brushing against them softly. He could feel her warm breath against his face, the tip of her tongue daring to take its first taste of him.

“Welcome home. _My_ Dean.”

And he knew he was.

*   *   *   *   *   *

Sam had returned to sit and wait on the outside steps when Bobby finally rematerialised. The night was warm and it had been pleasant sitting listening to the sounds of the night and glimpsing the stars through the trees. Bobby was there suddenly beside him.

“How is he?”

“He tried to get up but he fell asleep again on the sofa in there. Bobby? I….Look. When you said what you said earlier, about perhaps understanding why we… Can you tell _him_ that? He’s still worried you hate him. He...Just…Please.”

“I intend to, boy. I know none of this is _his_ doing. You and your daddy screwed him up totally between you. You say he’s asleep again?”

“Properly for once. First time for too long.”

“We’ll get him something for when he wakes up then.” Bobby headed into the cabin without looking back.

Sam sighed and followed. He closed the outer door as quietly as he could and secured it. Turning round he realised that the older man was kneeling quietly beside his brother, just checking for himself that he was really only asleep this time. He glanced up and met Sam’s watchful look with a relieved nod. Sam understood. No matter what he had done and what Bobby really thought or said to him, they both shared a deep love for his brother that would always give them common ground.

Bobby crossed to the small kitchenette. “Looks like an angel when he’s asleep, don’t he?”

Sam agreed, then tried not to smirk as memories of that afternoon entered his head. Little did Bobby realise what a truly disgracefully bad devil Dean could be! He hastily put the thoughts aside as his groin area let him down by showing a lot of interest as well. Instead he concentrated on the email he had found on his laptop.

“Someone is trying to break into Frank’s hard drive, He must have rigged it to warn us, and he’s connected it to a GPS tracker. We know where Dick Roman is! Or at least the hard drive. I’ll show you the details.”

“You think the sleeping beauty’s up to it?” Bobby motioned at the sofa.

“I think he won’t be wanting to hang around here. You know what he’s like. He’s going to be uncomfortable enough around you, let alone running the risk of seeing Jodie again for a while.”

Bobby snorted. “I get you, boy. Okay show me what you’ve got. And let’s hope that we can find Frank’s hard drive in time before that bastard Roman uses it to find us! It’s about time we started to win against these things. Did Dean…? Has he said any more about….?”

Sam didn’t have to ask what he meant. “Let me grab some more coffee, I’ll get my laptop and we’ll sit and work this out, and I’ll tell you what he said while you were out. And then we’ll never ask him about it again.” And this time he really thought he meant it.

“We are going to beat these things, Bobby. We’ll find a way, we always do. It’s all going to work out okay. As long as I’ve got you and Dean. It’s going to be okay.”

“I know, boy. It’s all going to be fine. You just wait and see.”


	19. Epilogue

As they were getting ready for the long drive, Dean’s phone beeped with a text. He had left it on the table while he was packing his bag so Sam picked it up and read it for him.

_I. You free anytime next two weeks? F._

“This mean anything to you?”

Dean glanced at the message. “It’s nothing.”

“What is it? Who’s ‘F’?”

Dean watched his face carefully as he replied. “You remember that man a few months ago? Where I kissed you outside the bar because he was putting you down?”

“Him? How did he get your number?”

“I called him. When you left after Amy. We had a good time.”

“Oh.” Sam digested this information. “Why ‘F’? That wasn’t his name.”

“Make of his sportscar.”

“Oh. Was the car a good ride?”

“No back seat. He agreed my Baby was far more useful in that respect.”

“Oh. You seeing him again?”

“No plans to.”

Dean waited. He had been honest and open, just like Sam wanted him to be. But he already knew Sam’s jealousy by now as well. “We going to do this, then?”

“It can wait a couple of hours. Go and get your forties suit on.”

“Excuse me?”

“The suit you returned from the 1940s in. And the coat. Put it on.”

Dean paused. “The hat as well?”

The original had got left behind as he had been pulled back to their own time: he had been really disappointed. He was amazed when Sam had been as well. Not to mention Jodie, who had insisted on finding a replacement on condition she could have a photograph of him wearing the complete outfit. But he doubted that seeing him dressed so smart had the same effect of the sheriff as it seemed to have on his brother. He hoped not anyway. Not that he ever got to wear any of it for very long once Sam saw him in it.

“The hat as well.”

“Hadn’t we better get going?”

“This Alpha Vampire thing can wait a couple of hours. Go and get _changed_ , Dean.”

There was that voice. Dean wasn’t quite sure when Sam had started to use that voice. It had just evolved during the last few months in the same way that their relationship had done. But he knew what it did to him when Sam used that voice: all the blood in his body went rushing south without a single drop of it taking a detour. He wasn’t sure if he could disobey that voice, although to be honest he had never tried. Yet. Perhaps one day he would, just to find out what would happen....

But not today. Not now. He hurried to find his smart suit and get changed.

As he had predicted he didn’t get to keep it on for very long.

Sam had made him stand in the room, just stand and wait while his brother walked around him, drinking in the view; brushing a stray long Sam-coloured hair off the collar; running his long fingers gently down Dean’s woollened back. Dean was almost getting embarrassed when Sam had finally, _finally_ , moved to stand directly in front of him, removed the trilby from his head and placed it on his own.

Dean was just about to tell him that it didn’t look right _at all_ with that long hair when Sam had moved in, and then Dean didn’t care about the hat.

That had been an hour ago and now they were both naked in the bed, their arms tight around each other, Dean slightly lower with his head against the top of Sam’s chest, the top of it just nestling beneath Sam’s chin as if made to fit there. Sam could feel the softness of his hair against his skin and tightened his arms even more in appreciation.

“You think you will be seeing that bloke again?”

“Not when I’ve got _this_. Not when I’ve got _you_.” Dean hadn’t had to ask what his brother meant, he knew it had been on his mind ever since he had seen the text.

If it were possible, Sam held him even closer. “You always will. As long as you want me as well, I’ll always be here. Even if you don’t, I’ll still be here.” It was a whisper, but as clear as a shout to his brother. Dean smiled and snuggled in closer.

“I lied to you.” Sam suddenly blurted. “I said I would step back if Cas returned. I lied. I love you. I want you. I can’t let you go.” The anguish in his voice was palpable, Dean sighed and turned his head enough that he could see Sam’s face, then wriggled up to kiss him.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know how you feel about Cas. You can hide it from yourself but not from me.”

“He betrayed me. He betrayed _us_. And. We’ve never had _this_ before. So don’t you worry about Cas. I’m not going anywhere, Sam. Besides,” he added as he lay back down with his face now beside his brother’s head on the pillow: “he’s an Angel! Out of my league anyway.”

Sam wanted to argue, to tell him that _he_ was out of _Castiel’s_ league. But he didn’t. Because he was selfish and he didn’t care he was, he just never wanted to lose his brother. If anything ever happened to him, then he just didn’t know what he’d do. He wouldn’t know _what_ to do. He’d probably lose his mind. Losing Dean would probably succeed in what Lucifer had failed to do.

He put that thought out of his mind and concentrated on the fact that Dean was right there, in his arms at that moment. Why waste what they had by worrying about what may never be? And come to think of it, Dean _was_ there, in his arms right now. _Naked_. Why waste the moment?

He was on top of his brother and kissing him before he had finished the thought. Dean sighed up at him.

“Hadn’t we better get going? We’ve still got to find this place and I’d rather it was in the daylight.”

“Soon. We’ve got time enough.” He was rubbing himself against his brother, he was already fully hard and there was Dean’s cock rising to meet his.

“Sammy. You’re really insatiable!”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yeah, but.” 

Sam paused in his rutting and looked down at him with sudden anxiety. “But?”

Dean looked sheepishly up at him, didn’t want to admit a weakness. “You tire me out sometimes.” He confessed. “I love this and I love you, but sometimes... I don’t think you know how strong you are, or how relentless sometimes. It’s just...sometimes I’m happy to just...you know, just lie here.”

“Oh.” Sam considered this for a moment. “Are you saying you’re happy to just....cuddle?”

He grinned as colour flared into his brother’s face: “Well, I wouldn’t use _that_ word exactly but...”

“But Dean Winchester likes to cuddle!” Sam was laughing as he began to kiss his brother’s face, all of it, every inch. “Or should we use the word ’snuggle’? Would that be better? Shall we just snuggle?”

“No! Definitely not snuggle!”

“How about ‘cradling’? I could cradle you instead.”

“No! Makes me sound a fucking baby!”

“Nestle! We could nestle!”

“What are you? A walking fucking dictionary? Just forget I said anything!” He was getting irritated in his embarassment. Sam took pity and plunged his tongue in to his mouth to stop both of them from saying any more.

Then it wasn’t just to stop them from talking as mutual passion took over. Dean’s hands stroked through Sam’s hair and pulled him down harder while Sam’s hands were all over the strong muscled body beneath his. When they broke apart, it was only because both were desperate to snatch some much needed breaths of air.

Sam gazed down at his brother. He could feel how hard he was against his own fully erect cock, but...

“Can I enter you again?”

“Yeah. Yes! I want to. I _always_ do. I was just saying... well trying... sometimes I get tired, or frustrated at everything that’s happening, and I just want to be next to you, know you’re there, even if we’re not _doing_ anything, you know....”

His rambling was cut off as Sam suddenly kissed him deeply and slowly. “I know.” He whispered to him. “I feel the same. I think that’s what they call ‘love’.”

“Sammeee.”

It was a discontented rumble from his brother’s lips but Sam laughed. He felt ecstatic. He felt that all the weight of doubt was being lifted from him. He still caught himself wondering if Dean _was_ happy with their relationship like this, and now all that was gone, because although his brother might never be able to bring himself to say the word as Sam so desperately wanted him to say it, he had just come close enough.

And he had just given permission for Sam to fuck him again.

Sam didn’t waste any more time. Quickly he lubed up and pushed back in to that perfect tight warmth, sliding in without any hesitation or resistance this time as Dean was still slicked from the short time before. Well, had extra slick from what Sam had added while he was in there the first time. Sam moaned as he went in all the way and began to thrust immediately.

He wanted it different this time. He wriggled both his hands and knees beneath Dean’s ass until he could gather him up in his arms before pulling himself backwards onto his kneeling legs, physically dragging his brother up onto his lap without missing a single beat of rhythm. Dean’s breath caught slightly as his own weight forced him down to impale even deeper onto Sam’s cock. He moved his legs to wrap loosely around his brother so he could use them to help by pushing away from Sam momentarily and then back to double the force of each of his thrusts into him.

“This okay?”

“Your legs alright? Can you take my weight?”

“You’ve taken mine all your life. My turn now.”

And with that they were back in each other’s mouths and gasping and panting until Dean had no choice but to arch his back as he climaxed, and Sam was following immediately and calling his name and telling him he loved him and shaking through all of his limbs.

It was a few minutes before either could move. Dean tried to first but Sam’s large hands were so firmly clamped on his hips that he couldn’t: he just waited for Sam to finally slip out of him and for his brother to sigh in disappointment, before he could finally pull them both down to lie in the bed and pull the blankets over them. They lay tangled together in each other’s arms while they recovered.

“So.” Dean finally broke the silence. “An Alpha Vampire, huh?”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed. “Fucking vampires. I hate fucking vampires!”

“I hope you don’t fuck vampires! You’re never touching me again if you do!”

“Dean! Don’t be.... As if anyone would fuck a vampire! Or, oh god,” he was laughing now. “Imagine getting a blow job from one!”

“Oh Christ! All those teeth! My eyes are watering at the thought!” Dean was laughing as well. He started to get up from the bed, still chuckling. “I tell you one thing, Sammy. I’ll never be finding _that_ out! Can’t ever see me spending more time with a vampire than is needed to chop its head off! That’s a _certainty!_ ”

Sam watched him as he disappeared in to the bathroom. God, he loved him so much. He really did. Conventionally as a brother, and completely off the moral compass chart as a lover. And he didn’t care. As long as Dean was okay about it and wanted him too, then everyone else could just go and deal with the world’s end on their own if that’s how they felt!

He didn’t need them. The only thing he needed had just walked into that other room where the shower had just been turned on. Sam got out of the bed and decided to join him in there, after all: they had wasted enough time now, better they shower together and try to catch some of it up!

Even as he opened the door and slipped into the small cubicle, Sam‘s brain was whirring. What was a manly word for cuddling? He would have to do some research and try to find one that Dean would accept the use of. And then make sure they practised it lots. At least once these leviathans were dealt with, they could relax and do just that and nothing else.

As long as they were together. That was all that mattered. Sam and Dean Winchester. Together. As they always should be.


End file.
